


What do I care

by Serpentina1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Babies, Bad Boy Harry, Betrayal, Blackmail, Damsels in Distress, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Malfoy Family, Love, Malfoy Manor, Marriage, One Direction Break Up, Romance, Slow Build, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 113,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpentina1/pseuds/Serpentina1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger has some problems. Her boyfriend is ignoring her, her best friend needs things from her that she can't give and she's got a terrible secret. But help and sympathy come from an unexpected source...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Intruder

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations written by J.K. Rowling. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made. The plot of this fiction is all mine, though.

 

**_Prologue_ **

Slowly and steadily the snow spiralled down from the constantly darkening winter sky, and covered the old trees and pines in the park around the Manor beneath a thick blanket of whiteness.

In one of the cosy-lit rooms behind the windowpanes, Lucius Malfoy was seated in the huge leather armchair by the fireplace, a glass of Hennessy at the table beside him. He felt at peace with the world and himself on an evening like this, when the voices of Narcissa, Draco and his wife, who played with the children beneath the huge, entirely silvery-decorated Christmas tree in the living room, drifted in through the half opened door.

The House Elves were still busy clearing the large dinner table and Aunt Henriette had already retired for the night.

It was on evenings like these, when he came to wonder how entirely his life had changed. Only six years ago, his first aim in existence had been to serve Voldemort and help him to conquer the wizarding and Muggle world, whereas now – The soft creaking noise of the door caused him to look up. Like he had expected, his eldest and favourite grandchild had decided to join him in front of the fireplace.

The very next moment, Lilliana Malfoy slipped into the room.

“Want to join me by the fireplace, Lily?” he asked with a smile and the little girl nodded earnestly. “Yes,” she told him smiling, as she climbed into his lap, flinging her arms around his neck. “Grandpa – Are you going to tell me a story again?”

“Don’t you want to go and play with your new gifts along with your siblings?” he asked with an amused smile, already knowing the answer.

Like he had expected, the little black-haired girl shook her curly head. “No, I’d rather hear one of your stories.”

He could not help but smile at this. “Well then,” he started off, enjoying the happy twinkling in her bright emerald green eyes, “once upon a time there was a unicorn, living in a green forest… ”

 

 ** _Chapter 1_**       - The Intruder –

“Hermione?”

The soft voice from the corridor outside and a knock on the door made the couple in bed flinch with surprise, just as Hermione started to unroll the rubber. Her eyes wide, she stared at her boyfriend, who looked equally startled and not happy at all at the disturbance. “Who the heck is that?” he whispered worriedly and hastily drew his T-shirt and boxers back on.

“How would I know?” Hermione whispered back. “I dropped Divination in third year, remember?”

With that she slipped out of bed and picked her sleeveless pale-blue summer night dress up from the floor. “I just hope it’s not Mrs. Weasley on the war path,” she added, dragging the gown over her head. Aloud she called: “Yes, I’m here. Who is it?”

“It’s Ginny,” the tear-strained voice from the corridor called softly in reply. “Oh Hermione, can I come in? I know it’s late, but I –” another half muffled sob, “I can’t sleep and I – Oh please?!”

A look of relief passed between Hermione and Harry, before she replied: ”Oh yes, of course, Gin! Wait, I’ll open the door.”

She hurried across the room to let her friend in.

Her head bowed, the long red curls dishevelled, the slender redhead shuffled into the room, wearing a long, sleeveless, white night dress.

She looked as if she had been crying for quite a while, but when her eyes focused on Harry they grew wide with surprise and a gleaming redness shot into her cheeks. “Oh – Harry! What are you doing here?!” She looked around in wonder. “Where’s Lavender?” she asked confused as her eyes fell onto the empty bed by the window in which Ron’s girlfriend was supposed to sleep.

Harry shrugged. “Isn’t she here? Oh dear, she must be sleepwalking in the garden once again, then.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. Turning to Ginny she smiled: “Don’t listen to him, Gin. He is an idiot. Lavender is up at Ron’s.”

“She’s – Ooh –” the younger girl replied, blushing. Suddenly realising that Hermione was wearing her gown inside out and Harry was seated in the middle of her bed, without his glasses on, her blush increased. “I didn’t intrude on anything, did I?” she stammered. “I didn’t know – I – Shall I leave you alone again?”

“No, now you might just as well stay, Gin,” Harry responded dryly. “It doesn’t make any difference.”

Confused, Ginny turned her head, her big brown eyes seeking reassurance on her friend’s face. “I’m sorry Hermione.”

Once he had overcome his frustration, Harry forced himself to smile at his best friend’s younger sister. “It’s OK, honestly.” Looking back at Hermione he asked: ”Shall I leave you two alone to talk?”

“Well, where exactly are you planning to go?” she asked with a smile. “I can’t see Ron and Lavender being very thrilled if you return to your own bed right now.”

He flashed her a fake grin. “Too true.”

With that, both of them focused on their unexpected guest. Harry patted the bed with an open palm. “Come over here, Gin. Take a seat.”

Slowly and hesitatingly Ginny followed the invitation and settled herself onto the bed next to him, dragging her feet under her body.

Hermione joined them, taking a seat on the girl’s other side. Like the other two she leaned back against the wall. “What’s the matter, Ginny?” she asked softly. “What did you want to talk to me about? You don’t mind Harry being here, do you?”

The younger girl shook her head. “No, no I don’t. I – just had such a bad dream and I thought – I couldn’t stay all alone in my room up there –”

Once again she started crying and her voice became very small and thick with tears.

“Oh, was it about Fred again?” Harry asked carefully and sneaked his arm around her. At the unexpected, comforting contact Ginny broke down completely and merely nodded, burying her face in his chest.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a knowing glance over the top of Ginny’s head. This was nothing new. It was more than a year ago, around the time when they had started dating at the end of their fifth year, when the horrible accident had happened.

The Death Eaters had attacked Hogsmeade in broad daylight to frighten the inhabitants of the little settlement and give them a display of the Dark Lord’s growing power.

It had been the last Hogsmeade weekend of the term and a couple of students had died in the attack. Ginny and Ron had visited their brothers’ Joke Shop to pick up a funny birthday present for Harry. Ron and George had been hurt by some pieces of wood and the beams from the collapsing ceiling, but Ginny had got away with merely a scratch. This was thanks to Fred, who had pushed her down into a corner and had stepped in front of her when one of the three black-robed men with their white masks, who had blown up the shop, had pointed his wand at her. Her brother had been hit with the killing curse and his dead body had shielded her from further attacks until the three Death Eaters had fled at the first signs of arriving Aurors.

The whole Weasley family had been struck by this like a blow, but Ginny took it the hardest. She’d had to witness her brother’s death, and while the other family members tried to carry on as normal as possible, Ginny could not really overcome the horrors of the attack and the stab of guilt that she felt at the memory of Fred stepping in front of her, shielding her with his body and – dying – in her place.

‘It should have been me,’ had been her first words after staying silent for almost a whole week after the attack. She considered herself responsible for his death and could not overcome the feeling of guilt. They had told her countless times that it had not been her fault, that it had been nothing but Fred’s own choice to save his little sister, but it did not really help. She only said that she never really came to appreciate him in life and got so easily mad at him for playing his pranks on her. She said she wished he could laugh one more time about frog-spawn-soap, or likewise shampoo he had placed in the shower, or one of his fake wands, causing a mess.

Slowly, the heart wrenching sobs subsided into soft sniffing noises and finally died away completely. When Hermione bent down to check on the redhead, she noticed that she had literally cried herself to sleep, her head resting in the crook of Harry’s neck.

Very carefully, so not to wake her again, he placed her sleeping form onto the bed and Hermione drew the blanket up around her shoulders. Their friend certainly deserved the rest and neither Harry nor she had the heart to disturb her. With a sigh of frustration, they extinguished the lights and slipped out of the room to move over to Ginny’s bedroom for the rest of the night.

 **A/N:** I hope you’ll enjoy the story. Please drop me some comment.

Lots of thanks to **SilentG** , for beta-reading this chapter.

Smiles, Serpentina

 


	2. Needles and Pins

“Harry – watch it!” Hermione gasped at the alarming sensation of a warm hardness brushing against her inner thigh.  

“What is it?” he muttered, his hot breath tickling her ear. Hermione wriggled under him. She had been truly disappointed to be let down on her hopes for release before, and now that Harry and she finally had the opportunity to continue with the activities that had been so unpleasantly interrupted by Ginny’s appearance at her door, her body was yearning with need.

For once, Harry had taken himself time to arouse her and the effect of these efforts, was a pleasant sensation of warmth spreading through her. But there was still an important matter that needed to be dealt with, before she could allow herself to get carried away by this unusual feeling of wantonness. A matter she took very seriously. Her throat dry with longing, she sat up a little to look at Harry, whose face was flushed with lust. “Wait – we – need to put on the rubber first,” she croaked hoarsely.

“We don’t have any,” was the likewise huskily-whispered response, muffled against the crook of her shoulder. “They are – still – in the pocket of my – jeans – In your room.”

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. The heavy disappointment she felt at these words almost made her arousal subside again, but just almost. “Oh – but … Why didn’t you bring them along?” she asked, flabbergasted.

“I forgot, OK?” Harry muttered, tracing his fingertips across the soft skin of her legs, close to the one point that longed so desperately for his touch. A low moan escaped Hermione’s throat as she waited for his fingertips to brush across the sensitive, needy flesh. But yet, he did not touch her.

“Harry,” she gasped and he just gripped her tighter and bucked his hips against hers in a slow and yet very significant movement. But just a second before he truly reached his destination, Hermione nervously shifted her belly so that his throbbing hardness missed her by inches and nudged against her leg instead. “Harry, no –” Hermione choked, startled, fighting against her own urge to play along and just give in to her own desire.

“Now come, Hermione, don’t make a fuss about it,” Harry whispered pleadingly and kissed her neck again.

Hermione bit her lip, closing her eyes to keep her thoughts straight. He was right, she realised. They had left her bedroom on tiptoe so not to wake Ginny, who had finally fallen asleep – and in their haste, they had not brought the rest of their clothes along. 

Harry, who took her prolonged silence for agreement, kissed her fiercely and made another attempt to nudge into her, but once again, she shifted – just in time.  

Gasping for breath Harry broke the kiss. “Ahhah yes – Hermione, you’re doing this on purpose, right?” he moaned. “You just want to urge me on, don’t you? That’s so good – Hermione – it makes me so hot – if you pretend to be pulling back, whenever I get close to entering you it gets me just – horny –” he panted, caressing the soft skin of her ear and neck with his teeth, sending shivers of excitement through her at the touch. He had removed his hands from her hips and was cupping her breasts now instead, slightly rubbing and squeezing her nipples between the pads of his thumbs and his indexes. The unaccustomed feeling of being touched and caressed with such ardour made it doubly-difficult for Hermione to resist him. It seemed like such a waste to abandon their plans, especially when he was being so – thorough with his hands and his mouth…

A shudder filled her at the feel of his warm breath against her ear. “Hermione,” he sighed “Hermione, you're so beautiful – I want you so much – oh please – let’s do it now – let’s just – do – it! Right now – Oh please –”

It was so tempting to just give in to the sensations of longing and need and buck her hips against his to intensify the contact and feel him inside her. It would be so easy – so good – so – Nonetheless a tiny but resolute corner of her mind objected violently to such carelessness. “Harry, no – not without protection –” she muttered, desperately fighting for the last vestige of self-control. Her own voice was sounding strange in her ears.

“Aaahhh... I've been waiting so long for you! Please, you're so sexy, I can't wait…” Harry sighed, reaching down to steady her pelvis so she would not be able to squirm away at the next movement of his hips against hers. “Enough of this teasing – you won’t get away this time –” he laughed softly, nibbling her neck and biting her earlobe. 

“No, Harry – stop it!” The sudden sharpness of her remark made him realise she was serious. Confused and slightly startled he opened his eyes.

“I can't enjoy myself when I'm worried about getting pregnant,” she frowned, refusing to acknowledge the little voice in the back of her mind that said: 'You never – really – enjoy yourself, do you? Well, maybe it’s different this time.’

Harry, who ran his palms up and down her hips and belly, in a desperate attempt to make her change her mind and once again, shoved her legs apart with his knee. “I won't come inside you, I promise! Oh Hermione – I can't stand this! Don’t say you want me to wait – again?!”

“Please, Harry – don't make me do this – we agreed,” Hermione told him seriously, cupping his hot, flushed cheek with her hand.  

For a couple of seconds he merely stared at her and she almost expected him to complain again. Therefore she was more than a little surprised when he just sighed and rolled off her, pulling her close. “Oh, OK if there’s nothing I can do to make you change your mind –”

Smiling, she snuggled her face into the crook of his shoulder and planted a little kiss on his skin. She was so glad to have finally convinced him. But his next words made the illusion subside again. Running his hand up and down her shoulder, he started to bite her earlobe again and muttered huskily: “But you won’t just let me down, will you? How about if we just do what we tried last week? You know –”

Before he managed to finish his sentence, though, Hermione cut in. “Oh no, I’d rather not do that.”

“Hermione,” Harry moaned, slightly exasperated. “What’s wrong now? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of that, too? You don’t think you could get pregnant doing _that_ , do you?” he mocked with a bitter note to his voice. “And I really – can’t bear it any longer –” 

“Oh Harry, no,” Hermione objected, “I told you it makes me gag. I don’t want to do that again!”

“Well, maybe you aren't doing it right,” he shot back and she could tell from the sound of his voice that he was in quite a bad mood. The words stung, but she decided to let it go.

Harry merely stared at her for a second, then, all of a sudden, he let go of her. “Fine then,” he snapped, leaping to his feet. “I guess I'll just go jerk off in the shower. Again. You're a real cocktease, you know, Hermione? Sometimes I wonder if you really want me at all.” 

**OO**

When the first sunbeams tickled her nose, Ginny stirred in her sleep.

The first she noticed was that the wall was on the wrong side of the bed and the light seemed to come from the wrong direction as well. Up in her room the head of her bed was placed beside the window, whereas now bright sunlight from the other side of the room shone right into her face.

A little confused, she rubbed her eyes and waited for this information to sink in. It took her a few seconds to realise that she was lying in Hermione's bed. With a frown she remembered the night before. The bad dream she’d had and the fact that she had turned to her friend for comfort.

But Hermione had not been alone. Blushing, she remembered that she had obviously intruded on her and Harry in a rather importune moment. The night before she had been too troubled by her nightmare to care, but now –

She buried her face in the pillow to stifle a groan at the memory. How – embarrassing. And she had even cried in Harry’s arms and for all it looked like, she had fallen asleep just here. Now she was truly blushing. She had still such a crush on him and sometimes it was just too hard that her best friend of all people was dating him.  

They must have moved to her room for the night and were probably still asleep, or – catching up on the things on which she had intruded. In her bed! She felt a stab of jealousy at the idea, but tried her best to ignore it.

There was no way she would be able to fall asleep again. With a grin, she noticed that Lavender still had not returned from Ron’s room, and maybe it was best to leave before she did. Ginny didn’t feel in the mood for any explanations, nor hearing Lavender swoon over Ron, first thing in the morning.

The only problem was that she had nothing on but a night-dress and her knickers and did not want to disturb Harry and Hermione to get clothing from her room. No, it was much better to borrow some of Hermione’s clothes and head down to the kitchen instead. Her mum would be probably up already, preparing breakfast. She would most likely welcome her help and it would be a good opportunity to get her thoughts off the frustrating images of Harry and Hermione having it off – in her bed.

Life simply wasn’t  fair.

With an exasperated sigh Ginny swung her feet out of bed and approached the chair beside the closet, on which a pile of clothes was heaped.

It was easy to tell to whom the pieces belonged. Lavender’s things were much like her own, wizards’ style, but Hermione’s Muggle fabrics held a strange fascination for Ginny. She chose a simple, sleeveless summer dress whose swinging skirt ended a few inches above the knee. Black, with a pattern of tiny beige leaves. With the dress it did not matter that she was almost a head shorter than her friend. She would not need shoes inside, but it was probably good to look for some kind of sweater to wear above the sleeveless dress at this early hour. A nice pale-blue cardigan caught her eye and she started to drag it out from under the other clothes. At that the whole piled started to shift and she hurried to stabilise it and pick up the fabric that had fallen to the floor.

A pair of Muggle trousers made her stop in her tracks. For all she knew these were called jeans, but they could not belong to Hermione as they were too large for her. They must be Harry’s, she mused with a grin. Refusing the urge to give them a closer look, she quickly placed them back with the rest.

But she had barely turned to leave, when the sound of something small clattering to the floor caused her to turn her head.

A little shiny object was rolling beneath the chest of drawers by the door. Her first suspicion was that it must be some kind of money, a Sickle probably, due to its silvery shine; but when she picked it up, she noted it was a button that must have loosened and fallen off when she had placed the trousers back across the chair. Too bad. 

On an impulse she decided on fixing it, before Harry wondered what she had done with his clothes. The problem was just that she was not allowed to do any magic during the holidays. Besides that she did not have her wand even.

Thoughtfully she looked around until her gaze fell on Lavender's stitching set on her bedside table. Yes, that would be the best solution. Glad to have worked something out, she sat down in a patch of sunlight in a cross-legged position on the floor and spread the trousers across her lap to see the place she needed to sew the button on.  

While picking out thread of suitable colour, she placed the needle into the material of the trousers, so not to drop it; and startled as she realised that she had gone through the pocket by mistake. She knew because Harry must have had some kind of rubbish in there, a candy-wrapper or something – because it made a crinkly, wrappery sound.

**OO**

Half an hour after breakfast, Hermione was seated in the cool shadow of an old oak tree at the edge of the Weasleys’ garden, an open book in her lap.

Charlie was staying at the Burrow for the whole of August and Harry, Ron and his brothers were engaged in a variation of a Quidditch game, their happy, excited calls and laughter drifting in to her from the sunny field behind the hedge. Lavender and Ginny had decided to follow the boys to watch their game.

With a soft sigh Hermione leaned her back against the old tree’s rough bark and stretched her legs. The dry summer grass tickled her toes, as she had kicked her sandals off. She was glad to have some time to herself after the closeness at the Burrow. She could very well do without the constant presence of another person.

She still felt a little sad about her quarrel with Harry the night before. Things were not going too well between them anyway these past few weeks. She still cared a lot about him, but was not entirely sure if he felt the same. Sometimes he was so focused on himself that he did not even notice he wasn’t paying attention to her interests and needs in the slightest.

He had been such a dear friend when they had been younger, but as a lover he was kind of thoughtless. He did not understand when she wanted to study or just read instead of watching his Quidditch practice and it was not just that – In bed things were not going well either.

It was not that she did not enjoy having sex, but it was nearly always a rushed spontaneous act, which was usually over before she got the chance to really enjoy herself. What bugged her most, though, were Harry’s persistent attempts to get it on at places they could be discovered any second. She on the contrary hated it. A few times she had played along, but had not enjoyed it at all.

After the unfortunate developments of the previous night, Harry had been in quite a bad mood, but Hermione was nonetheless glad she had not allowed herself to get carried away by the heat of the moment.

Though he had tried to act normal at breakfast, she knew he was still mad at her for letting him down on his hopes and she hated how he made her feel guilty for her refusal. He had been kind of giving her the silent treatment and instead had talked to Ginny, who had been overjoyed by his attention.

Despite her personal problems, Hermione had been glad to see her friend laugh, which she rarely did these days. Ginny had never been the same since Fred’s death and besides that Hermione felt a little sorry for her. She knew Ginny still had not fully overcome her crush on Harry. Poor Ginny, it could not be easy for her.

But she had looked a lot better this morning, Hermione remembered. Her eyes had followed Harry’s every movement and her cheeks had held a reddish glow, when he had told her how pretty she looked in her new dress. He had not even noticed it was Hermione’s dress, a fact which did not exactly improve her own mood.  

And when he had finally even asked her to come along with him and her brothers to watch them play Quidditch, Ginny had been over the moon.

Hermione sighed again. Harry had bugged her to join them and watch the practice as well, but she hadn’t been in the mood for the rough, loud atmosphere that came along with it.

She was much more comfortable all by herself in the tree’s shadow, reading, or just giving in to her own thoughts about the upcoming school year – their seventh and last one.

If she’d only had Crookshanks with her. The poor fellow had died during the first weeks of the holidays. She did not like to even talk about it there at the Burrow, because losing Crookshanks seemed so trivial next to the death of Fred – but she missed him so much. What made it worse was that she felt responsible for her cat’s death. He had been hit by a car after she let him out one night… and she could not help but play the ‘what if’ game in her mind, thinking that her dear familiar would still be with her if she had just kept him inside that night. 

Her parents had offered her to pick out a new cat at Diagon Alley, but so far she had refused. She could not just focus on a new pet yet. Maybe later, during the Christmas holidays, but not yet.

A piece of parchment slipped out of the pages of ‘Hogwarts: A History’. With a slight smile she enfolded the letter that was placed as a bookmark inside and which she had read about 20 times these past few days.

_‘Dear Miss Hermione Granger,’_ the emerald green letters of Professor McGonagall’s neat handwriting read,

‘ _We are proud to inform you that you have been chosen to fill in the position as Hogwarts’ Head Girl for the upcoming term._

_Please consider the duties and responsibility that come along with this task seriously, before you tell us your decision. Sincerely,_

_M. McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’_   

Smiling, Hermione refolded the parchment and placed it back into her favourite book. There was no doubt that she would take the position offered to her. Being the Gryffindor Prefect for the previous two years she had grown rather fond of the responsibility and had already hoped for a chance like this.

She’d had a good reason for these hopes as it was usually one of the Prefects who was selected. Now she was just curious, who would take the position as Head Boy this year. She really hoped it would be Terry Boot, the former Ravenclaw Prefect, with whom she got along quite well. The other option would have to be Draco Malfoy and for understandable reasons, she was not at all fond of that idea.

OO

Around lunch time Hermione had just carried her book up to her room and was on her way back downstairs, when she almost ran into Harry who was on his way to take a shower before lunch. He was in quite an euphoric mood after the game. “Ahh, Hermione, there you are!” he smiled and hugged her impulsively.

Glad that he was not acting funny around her anymore, Hermione leaned into the embrace. “Hi,” she smiled and flung her arms around him, “how was the game?”

“Great,” he laughed and ran his hand down her back, “Ron and I kicked George’s and Charlie’s asses.  You’d truly think they’d play better than that, since they’ve both been on our House team once, but I guess it’s the lack of practice.” 

With that he pulled her into a kiss, to which she gladly and eagerly responded. For all it appeared Harry was very glad about their ‘make up’ as well. The kiss quickly deepened and when Hermione leaned closer, she clearly felt his erection pressing against her thigh.

“You know what,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck and started to run his hands up and down her back, “I was originally planning to take a shower, but –” he briefly turned his head to look over his shoulder and listened to the sound of voices from the kitchen below. “Since we’re all alone up here, I guess I have a better idea.”

“Harry,” Hermione gasped, “you can’t be serious about that!”

“Oh yes, I think this is a – very – nice idea, “he whispered, still grinning as he manoeuvred her back into the shadows at the stairs’ winding.

“And what would that be, Mr. Potter?” Hermione teased, still laughing, but he once again captured her lips in a hungry kiss.

“I’ll show you –” he muttered into her half opened mouth, running the tip of his tongue across her lower lip. Hermione responded eagerly to the kiss, closing her eyes at the sudden intense feel of her own arousal, she leaned back against the wall.

Once again Harry was doing an unusually-good job of arousing her – unlike usual, 'wham-bam-up-against-a-pillar-under-the-invisibility-cloak’, he took himself some time and she – hoped – that it meant he would also be paying more attention to her – more intimate – needs.

For quite some time they just kissed hungrily and Hermione sighed happily at the pleasant sensations of Harry’s fingertips caressing her breasts through the thin fabric of her summer dress. His hands were roaming across her body. One second they were cupping her breasts, the next they were running down along her sides, brushing softly across her belly, hips and thighs down to the hem of her short skirt, caressing her knee.

Kissing her fiercely, he let his fingertips wander up the bare skin of her thigh, while his knee started to shove her legs apart.

“No, Harry, wait ...” Hermione complained weakly, but he just touched her through the thin fabric of her knickers.

It felt heavenly, and soon Hermione’s own hands were tangled in Harry’s hair, messing it even more than it usually was. She slid her hands down his neck and shoulders with firm, kneading strokes. Glided them down his back in one fluid movement and started to slowly wander to the front side to gently rub the hard bulge in his trousers. Her caresses were answered by a husky gasp of pleasure.

“Hermione –” Harry panted and softly bit her neck. In a heated movement his hips bucked forward and pressed his erection into her hand.

With a soft sigh she tilted her head back and closed her eyes to dwell on the sensation of his lips trailing down a heated line of kisses across the tender flesh of her neck.

Nonetheless she could not relax at the constant fear of being detected by Mrs. Weasley.

Harry seemed to have no such worries though. But when he tried to drag her knickers aside, she gripped his hand to stop him.

“No – H-harry no, wait, stop. Stop this! Stop!” Slowly, but resolutely she withdrew herself from him, pressing her palms against his chest to shove him off. His exasperated complaint made her feel really bad once again.

“Oh Hermione, don’t say you want to make me wait – again!?” he moaned.

“No,” she whispered lovingly, “no, I won’t, but – Harry – let’s go to my room at least.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he teased, but hurried to follow her upstairs.

OO

Once they were back in her room, Hermione locked the door so Lavender would not walk in on them by accident. She had barely turned to key, though, when Harry already encircled her from behind, pressing his erection against her backside. “Oh Hermione,” he moaned, cupping her breasts in the palms of his hands, before his fingers wandered further down her body. “Hurry, I can’t wait any longer.” 

A heated kiss was placed on her nape. “I – can’t – wait –” With that he almost dragged her towards the bed. It was utterly clear that this would be one of the very rushed and heated encounters and Hermione had little hopes to find her own release. 

Nonetheless she at least tried to explain her feelings to him.

When he laid her back across the bed and straddled her, pressing her down with his weight, she reached up to touch his face again. “Harry,” she whispered, “I’d rather not do it right away. I want to sleep with you, but – not like this. Not this rushed – let’s take some more time. We could at least snuggle a little before we do it, shall we?”

“Ahh– Hermione,” he moaned, less enthusiastic, “we can snuggle in bed tonight, OK? Right now I’m too juicy to wait any longer. All I want right now is to let you have it ...”     

“Yes, I know, but Harry –”

“Hermione – ” he pleaded, rocking his pelvis against hers and she decided to take pity on him.

When she unzipped his trousers and shoved her hand inside to caress his erection through the material of his briefs, Harry gasped with want and started to hurriedly rid himself of his pants. Hermione helped him to pull them down far enough to free his erection, but when he lowered himself onto her and started to spread her legs further apart, she suddenly stopped him. 

“Wait,” she whispered softly, “hand me the rubber first!”                                                                     

Moaning, Harry leaned back a little and hastily fumbled with the pocket of his trousers. “Oh, damn!” he suddenly cursed. “I don’t have any at all!”

“But you always carry some around with you,” Hermione frowned.

“Yes, but I picked a fresh pair of jeans from my trunk, when I slipped back into my room this morning and I haven’t – Oh come on, let’s get it on without, Hermione… Just this once …” he pleaded.

Strongly reminded of the previous night, Hermione felt a stab of anger at the fact that he tried to talk into this for the third time in a row in merely 12 hours.

“I’ll pull out, before I come – really…” he promised.

“No Harry, I won’t do that and that’s final,” she declared with a sigh and prepared to get up again.

“No, no wait – Hermione, we can do it, anyway!” he told her.

“Oh, we already had that discussion yesterday, hadn't we? The answer is no!” she snapped.

Instead of complaining, Harry kicked off his pants, hurried across the room and fumbled with the pocket of the jeans he had worn the day before. He returned broadly grinning, holding up a condom wrapper. 

Unable to hide her amusement, Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s fortunate,” she grinned. Laughing, she dragged him onto the bed again kissing him soundly. 

With trembling fingertips, she unwrapped the rubber and just managed to place it on his throbbing erection, before he shoved her knickers aside and entered her in one fluid movement. Gasping at the sudden, rough contact, Hermione flung her arms around his back.   

“Oh, finally –” Harry gasped, “finally!!” 

Hermione could not join him in his passionate abandon. She tried her best to block any thoughts of Lavender and the Weasleys from her mind and just concentrate on Harry and her feelings. Very slowly she felt a warm, itching tension building up in her, but just when she started to really enjoy herself, a noise from the corridor outside made her flinch. All her earlier efforts were thwarted by this perilous distraction. Tensely Hermione listened to the approaching steps and muffled voices.  

“Shht – Harry,” she whispered, tapping his shoulder, “Harry, there’s someone outside.” But he seemed to be only turned on more by the idea.

“Hermione? Are you there?” Lavender’s voice echoed from outside.

Then Ron’s hushed voice could be heard. “Why don’t you go in?”

“The door is locked,” Lavender giggled. “Can you believe it? They are having it on – _again!_ ”

The tart laugh from Ron made Hermione feel worse. “Hey Harry!  How many points are you scoring for Gryffindor today?” he called, softly knocking his knuckles against the door and Hermione could hear Lavender giggle once again. Then the voices in the corridor subsided, and Hermione heard her friends hurry away, still giggling and sniggering. 

As much as the disturbance might have startled and embarrassed her, Harry seemed to be truly thrilled by it. 

Gasping with lust, he started to grind his hips into hers more forcefully and only moments later, she felt his body go rigid. With a final thrust of his hips he was pushed over the edge. And as he collapsed onto her, his breath rushed, groaning into her shoulder, Hermione wondered how it was possible to be so close to another person and feel yet so much alone.  

OO

The moment the compartment door clattered open, she knew it would be him.

Arrogantly raising a pale blond eyebrow, he looked at them. “Well, if it isn’t Potty and his Mudblood along with their beggarly friends the Weasels?” 

“Oh and Brown decided to disgrace her inheritance and muddle with them as well,” he added with malice.

“Sod off Malfoy,” Ron just growled while Hermione was trying her best to overcome the shock of seeing the dreaded Head Boy badge pinned to the front of the Slytherin’s robes.

Beside her she noticed Ginny go rigid with fright in her seat. After the fateful attack, she was deeply scared by all kind of trouble, especially if at the hands of a Slytherin.

When Hermione took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, Ginny turned towards her, her fearful brown eyes appearing oddly huge in her pale, frightened face.

“Yeah, clear off Malfoy,” Harry added casually, “and by the way, you should really think of some new material. It’s getting truly boring.”   

“Oh, it’s something new you are asking for?” Malfoy taunted, his eyes glittering. “Well, lets see…”

He let his gaze wander around the compartment until his pale-grey eyes settled on Hermione.

“Hey, Granger – where's your cat?” he called, “I hope you didn't let him out, did you?”

He must have noticed her flinch as he continued in a fake concerned voice: “Because everybody knows that wizarding animals don't know anything about Muggle junk like traffic. You didn't let him get run over by a car, did you, Granger? Because a great witch like you would never let a stupid thing like that happen to someone you loved.”

Hermione gasped at the meanness of his words. Furiously she blinked against the tears that shot into her eyes, unwilling to let him see how much his crude, but yet precise guess had hurt her; but Malfoy had already turned his attention towards the rest of the group.

“Oh my, it looks like it’s going to be a rather unhealthy year for redheads – _Again,_ ” he taunted sickeningly. “You’d better watch it Weasley,” he added with a meaningful look at Ron, whose face had become pale with rage over the tasteless jibe.

Hermione could not believe her ears. This comment had been low, even for Malfoy’s standards and for a couple of seconds neither of them moved at all.

**OO**

Once the words were out, Draco was shocked at his own rudeness. He had not really meant to bring up the death of their brother. But now that he had, he would not back away, or even apologise for it. A smug expression on his face, he pretended to be perfectly comfortable with his choice of words.

Before any of them had the chance to respond, Weasley’s little sister had jumped to her feet and dashed forward. “Take that back you – You –” words failed her as she threw herself at him for the insult, her face pale with wrath. 

Draco, who had not expected her sudden rush took a step back and collided with Goyle, who was standing in the doorway behind him. His smug grin was wiped from his face. Too startled to respond he simply stared at the fragile red-head, who looked angry enough to rip his throat out. Before she reached him, though, Potter and Weasley gripped her by the arms and tried to drag her into her seat again, but she struggled violently to get free. It was such a hilarious sight to watch Potter and Weasley at their attempts to becalm the sobbing, furious girl that he did not notice Granger approaching him.

Only when she stepped right in front of him, her face completely expressionless, he looked up. His eyes widened at the sight of the clearly visible Head Girl badge that was pinned to the front of her robes.

Hermione knew it was a crude, childish thing to do, and did not at all go well with her position; but at the sight of Ginny’s trembling form, finally slumped in a sobbing heap against Harry’s chest, and the smug look on Malfoy’s face, something snapped inside her.

Within a few seconds she was out of her seat and slapped him hard across the face. “How dare you – you – Son of a b – w–itch!” she hissed her voice cold and unsteady with rage.

Immediately Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, but Malfoy signalled them to stay out of this, with a wordless wave of his hand. First it was only the imprint of her hand on his cheek that reddened, but after a few more seconds his whole face flushed with fury. “You’ll be sorry for that you bitchy Mudblood filth!” he hissed, “believe me, I will make you pay!”

**A/N:** After writing and re-writing this chapter several times on a range from Teen and up audiences to Explicit, I decided that this fiction will do best as ‘Mature’. Not all chapters will contain as much ‘stuff’ as this one, but there will be some more ‘Mature’ scenes every now and then, even if the main part of this story would probably be perfectly fine as Teen and up...

Even if you might not believe it at the time being; this _is_ going to be a Draco/Hermione romance, I promise! I hope you enjoyed what I put up so far. Please let me know what you think!

The chapter’s title is borrowed from a song by Smokie, btw.

Thanks for reading.

Smiles, Serpentina


	3. Little Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves

Draco flinched back at the sudden, unexpected pain as Granger slapped him. He had been so distracted by the sight of the struggling, crying Weasley-girl who finally crumbled into Potter’s arms, that he had not noticed Granger’s hand coming up first. The next moment there had been a sharp pain on his left cheek and he had realised that she had – once again – slapped him, just as she had back in their third year.     

“There should be enough opportunity for that,” he added to his previous threat, fighting the urge to reach for his straining cheek.

At that, Potter and Weasley focused on them again. “You stay away from her,” Weasley snapped furiously and pulled out his wand. “You nasty evil –”

“Ron!” Granger cut him short, “Stop that! Malfoy isn’t worth the trouble.”

With a look of utter disgust, as if he were a piece of filth, she let her eyes wander across him and for a moment Draco almost regretted having started the argument.

**OO**

Since she had already found out about Malfoy being Head Boy during their conflict on the train, Dumbledore’s announcement did not come as a shock to Hermione.

The Sorting Ceremony and Welcome Feast passed in the usual cheerful mood and thus far she did not worry too much about the fact that she would be forced to deal with Malfoy during the term.  

But when after a while the excitement and happy chatting around started to die down due to the fact that everybody was sated and quite tired after the long day and the Prefects began to assemble first year students around themselves to lead them to their new Houses, Hermione began to feel a nervous leap in her stomach. 

After two years as a Prefect, it felt strange to watch others do her work now. It once again brought to her mind the changes she was going to face this year. For the first time, she fully realised that she would not spend any more nights in her familiar four-poster at Gryffindor Tower and a mixture of excitement and sadness captured her at the prospect.

Being Head Girl, she was no longer responsible for the members of her House alone. Therefore she would be given her own rooms on a neutral corridor where the students of all four Houses could easily consult her.

If it only had not been Malfoy of all people who would be moving into the rooms next to hers, it might have been easier to adjust to the new situation. Unintentionally, her eyes wandered over towards the Slytherin Table, only to find his seat empty. He must have already left without her notice.  

With a sudden feeling of fear she wondered if he might already be plotting something to get revenge on her as he had announced on the train. Given that thought, the prospect of living next door to Malfoy, on an otherwise uninhabited corridor, far from her friends’ shelter, made her feel a nervous lump in her stomach once again.

Suddenly Harry’s hand touched her forearm. “Hermione,” he asked, “aren’t you listening?”

With a slight flinch she snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh yes, yes what is it?” she asked, turning her attention back to her friends.

At the opposite side of the table, Ron and Lavender were talking softly to each other and all around students left the Great Hall in smaller or larger groups now so that the vast room began to appear noticeably empty.

“Here is some ghost who wants to lead you to your new quarters, Hermione,” Harry told her and it was only then she noticed the erstwhile librarian standing beside their table.

“Oh, good evening, Mr. Atlas,” she smiled at the kind tempered ghost who inhabited ‘Magical Maps of the Wizarding World’. 

The erstwhile Hogwarts librarian had met his end after unexpectedly and unwillingly breaking the fall of the huge Map-book from its marble stand, and had subsequently taken up residence in the mouldy tome. He had been very pleased to make the acquaintance of the studious Gryffindor, as he seldom got any visitors to his new place of residence.  It was not exactly a frequently-consulted one.

“I didn’t notice you were waiting for me, I’m sorry.”

The ghost smiled across his whole bluish-white face. “Ahh – No need to hurry Miss Granger, I have time enough, ages, I might point out. But Mr. Malfoy is waiting for us in the Entrance Hall.”

With mixed feelings about that information, Hermione rose from her seat, but Harry held her back. “Hey, wait a sec. Did you decide which password you’re choosing, yet?” 

“No, not really,” she explained, chewing her lip. “I was planning to pick something like –”

“How about Snitch?” he suggested with a grin.

Hermione pulled a face. “Isn’t there anything else on your mind ever?”

“Well –” Harry enunciated with a cryptic smile, “maybe there’s some similar word, with a very different meaning …”

“Miss Granger,” the ghostly librarian called softly and she noticed that he had already floated ahead in the direction of the Entrance Hall. Hermione turned to leave as well, but Harry held her back once more. “What about the password now? I want to be able to ‘join’ you later on, you know?” he whispered, winking an eye at her.  

“Yes, yes, OK,” Hermione assured him with an exasperated sigh.

When she followed Mr. Atlas into the Entrance Hall, she noticed that Malfoy was already waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, an expression of bored arrogance on his face.

“It’s about time, Granger,” he smirked. “Couldn’t separate from the Wonder Boy, could we?”

“I didn’t know  – you – couldn’t part from him, either,” Hermione remarked tartly.

The expression that crossed Malfoy’s face at that statement made up for a lot of the trouble that day had brought. And it was also very useful to improve her mood that – for once – Malfoy decided it better to not respond and merely glared at her.  

But while they followed their ghostly companion up to their new quarters, Hermione could not help throwing secret side glances at Malfoy several times. He was ignoring her completely and was, as he seemed, deeply lost in his thoughts.

At first sight his tall, lean appearance, noble features and the smooth, white-blonde hair were quite appealing; but once one caught the cast of his cold, pale-grey eyes, the angelic impression was immediately contradicted.  

In fact there was something really sinister about him. Once again, Hermione worried how they might get along with each other this year.

They had already been forced to work together as Prefects in the past two years and it had not been a pleasant co-operation, but so far they had not that much to do with each other. This was now about to change.

Musing over these matters, Hermione did not pay much attention to Malfoy and therefore flinched when he suddenly spoke.

“Axis?” he accosted the ghost, who was floating up the stairs in front of them, “What about the password to my rooms?”

When the addressed didn’t react to this, Malfoy tried to catch his attention again. “Axis?” he repeated more insistently.

At this, all her earlier anger broke free once again and this time Hermione could not keep her annoyance to herself. “Honestly Malfoy, do you really pay so little attention to the people around you that you do not even remember the name of a person who introduced himself to you just a couple of minutes ago?” she sniffed, “But what am I wondering about? I should have known, it’s just so typical of you!” 

**OO**

Draco stopped in his tracks at the censure. He could not believe that Granger truly dared to chide him. After all she had already slapped him on the train earlier, and would have done much better to just stay out of his way.

But no, she had to show off – again. And about such a stupid matter – In fact he had just reflected on how he had come to know the ghost.

As a child, Draco had liked to look at the map-plates in his father’s copy of the atlas at home and when he started at Hogwarts, he had searched for a copy of the book at the school's library. That was how he had come across its ghostly inhabitant in his first year and as he had contemplated it frequently in the intervening years, he had come to know the ghost well enough to be on a first name basis with him.

But Granger-stupid-cow had to chew him out about a thing she knew nothing about.

“I’d rather say, it’s just so typical for – _you,_ Granger, to persistently annoy your surroundings with that insufferable Know-it-all attitude of yours,” Malfoy sneered. “Never even considering you might be wrong for a change, do you?”

At this the ghost finally turned around. “Now, now, Draco, is that a way to speak to a lady?” he soothed him in a friendly manner. “You should mind your manners.”

**OO**

Before Malfoy got a chance to answer, the ghost faced Hermione with a smile. “You see, Miss Granger, knowing each other for quite a while now, Mr. Malfoy and I are accustomed to calling one another by our first names. That is why he has been calling me Axis.”

“As for your question, Draco,” he called back over his shoulder, “you will each choose your password completely to your liking. But I advise you to choose with care, as you will not be able to change your selection for the rest of the year.”

Carefully Hermione cast another side-glance at Malfoy, who looked straight ahead and simply continued in his tracks, without complaining at all. She had not at all expected him to accept the ghost’s critique that well. 

At the fourth floor, Axis Atlas turned to the right and floated around a bend that led them into a short corridor. The entire right wall held high lancet windows of bluish, rhombic shaped glass that added a dim, dreamlike atmosphere to the place. At the other end of the corridor, a white staircase led down to the part of the castle where the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff quarters must be. The only doors up here were two dark wood ones to their left.

**OO**

“Here we are,” Axis declared as he came to a halt. “Excuse me, but these are Mr. Malfoy’s rooms,” he told Granger, who had already approached the left of the two doors. Nodding into the direction of the other door, a few meters to the right, Axis added: “Your quarters are over there, Miss Granger.”

Draco almost laughed aloud at the shocked expression with which the Gryffindor backed away from his door at that explanation.

“I will give you the passwords of the previous year’s occupants to open the doors and when you step into your new quarters you tell the door the countersign you have chosen. It will be immediately activated once the lock snaps shut behind you. I once again remind you: choose with care. You will have to give the password whenever you wish to open or close the door.” 

“Come on, Axis, open up my rooms then.” Draco requested and nodded in Granger’s direction. “I’ve had enough of her presence for one day.”

“Little Snow-White,” Axis quoted and for a moment Draco had the irrational idea that his friend was referring to Granger, who leaned with her back against one of the windowsills a few steps away. But when the ebony-wood door to their left door opened, he realised this had been their erstwhile Head Boy’s password. Well, he had always thought there was something weird about him. 

Behind him, Draco could hear Granger coughing slightly.

“Hah – bet yours is ‘The Seven Dwarves, then, Granger,” he drawled as casually as possible, although he was inwardly boiling with rage at her. “Better not laugh before you’ve heard yours.”

She threw him another one of her arrogant, stuck up glances and turned her back on him without a further word.

Too curious to just disappear into his rooms, Draco leaned against his doorframe and waited for Axis to tell them, which password Cho Chang had picked for her Head Girl quarters.

“Harry Potter”, Axis called softly and Draco’s head snapped into the direction of the stairs, before he realised it was the former password to Granger’s rooms. Given the blunt look on her face, she had been likewise misled.

This time it was on him to mock her.

“Well, Granger,” he sneered, “looks as if ‘The Seven Dwarves’ would have been the better option. But then, you probably shouldn’t change it. Even Potter will be able to remember his name.”

With a last dark scowl at her, he stepped through the door to his rooms. “Mudblood!” he muttered with venom, just as the lock snapped shut.

**OO**

A cryptic smile playing around her lips, Hermione slipped into her new rooms and gave the door her new password. She had been indeed tempted to just keep Cho’s ‘Harry Potter’, but now that Malfoy had heard it, this was not an option really.

She could hardly imagine that Malfoy kept ‘Little Snow White’, either. What fun to see his discomfort at the revelation of his rooms’ former password.  

Her new quarters were a very pleasant surprise to her. Three floor- to-ceiling lancet windows at the opposite side of the room allowed the last glow of sunlight to float into the large living-working area. The walls were pale sandstone, like everywhere else in the castle, but a long row of bookshelves stretched over the entire wall around the entrance door.

A tremendous blue-beige carpet covered the light hardwood floor and likewise blue curtains were fluttering in a light breeze as two of the windows were leaning ajar at the moment.

Hermione supposed that Cho had transfigured the interior to show Ravenclaw colours and she briefly considered changing the curtains’ colours to scarlet red, but decided against it. In fact blue was a nice choice that went well with the dark wood furnishings. A monstrous, heavy ebony desk was placed in front of the windows, far enough apart from them to round it and have a look outside, though.

Right of the entrance door two king-size light-beige couches, with many loose pillows in various sizes were placed to face each other, a narrow likewise ebony wood table between them. Further to the right was a sideboard on which Hermione decided to place a couple of photographs.

The walls of a small but pretty bathroom, with an ivory-coloured design and a kitchenette reached into the room and gave it the shape of an ‘L’ that had the ebony desk at its ending.

At the wall to her left was a huge fireplace, with a creamy-white mantelpiece and an impressive hearth.

A door beside it led into the bedroom, which was dominated by a huge ebony wood four-poster with likewise blue curtains. A chest of drawers, a bedside table and a mirror, all of the same beautiful wood, completed the furnishings. Left of the door another fireplace of light-cream-white stone was built. Its back must edge on that of the living area’s fireside and Hermione supposed that they shared one chimney. 

A glance at the foot of the bed told her that her trunk had already been unpacked, but there were still a lot more items left to be decided about and which the House Elves had left for her to arrange after her own liking. Several personal objects such as photos, books, and the like had been merely unpacked, but left on top of the trunk. 

Nonetheless Hermione stepped towards the two floor-to-ceiling windows in her bedroom first to have a look at the grounds below. It was almost completely dark outside by now, but she could still recognise Hagrid’s hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

If it had not been for Malfoy, who was living so awfully close now, she could have been truly happy about her new home.

OO

Half an hour later, while Hermione was still busy sorting everything into its new place, the door creaked open and with a meaningful grin, Harry slipped into the room…

**OO**

Just when Draco arranged the last changes to his new quarters, he suddenly noticed the sound of voices.

It took him a few moments to realise that it must be Granger talking to someone behind the wall. Surprised, he stepped a little closer to the ebony wood sideboard on which he had placed a couple of photographs, and tilted his head aside.

If their quarters were laid out in a similar design, the wall must border on her bedroom. He would not have suspected to hear anything through the thick sandstone walls, but maybe there had been a doorway between their quarters once that allowed the sound to pass more easily. He could not understand what was said, but it was pretty clear that Granger was not just talking to herself.

A smug grin crossed his face as he noted the unmistakable sound of a male voice. No question to whom it belonged. Most obviously Potter had sneaked up to her rooms to spend the night there.

He was mildly surprised that Granger, who stuck so closely to the rules usually, dared to meet her boyfriend in her rooms. It was not at all encouraged by the school to spend the nights anywhere else than in one’s own dormitory and if it got round that Potter was visiting her nonetheless – and at an hour like that, her position as Head Girl might be in jeopardy.

While other students got only House points taken, it was not at all suitable for the Head Girl to have her boyfriend at her rooms at night time.

But if he was not much mistaken, Granger seemed to be taking that risk, though. 

His theories were proven right, when shortly after he had noted the voices, Potter’s unmistakeably ecstatic gasps and moans reached his ear.

Repulsed by the realisation that he just overheard Potter screwing his Mudblood, Draco backed away from the wall. It did not really help that the moaning was accompanied by the rhythmic banging of the bedposts against the wall.

The startling shortness of the encounter made him crack into a grin, though. For all it seemed, Potter had not lasted very long and given the fact that he had not heard a single gasp or moan of passion from Granger, he seemed to be no Wonder Boy in that department, anyway.

Much to his terror, Draco heard that the very same scene repeated itself two more times during the night and it were always just the horny, ecstatic screams and pants of Potter, but not a single sound from Granger that reached his ears.

‘Poor Mudblood,’ he thought with a cruel laugh after he had overcome the first shock about these new revelations. He even wondered if there was not any advantage he could take out of this knowledge.

**OO**

Life at Hogwarts started out quite busy for Hermione. Working along with Malfoy turned out as just as horrible as she had expected it and by the end of the first week of term she was in a very foul mood already.

So far there had not been much need for them to team up, but the one staff meeting which they’d both had to attend had been enough to tell her that it would not be at all easy. She was sure that once they had to truly co-operate, they would fight about – everything.

She was just glad that – so far – he had not made any rude comments towards her in front of the younger students. She did not fool herself about the matter, though. It was only an act in order to keep up their reputation and she wondered seriously, how long this false calm might last. It somehow had the appearance of dancing around a smoking volcano and she did not like the idea at all.  

When Harry came to see her in the evenings, she could not really relax. The stress took too much out of her. Like she had expected, Harry had little empathy for her worries. And he did not take the fact well that she was either too tired, or simply preoccupied with other matters on her mind to be in the mood for sex.

This on the contrary only added to her stress and a few times she had just given in to his approaches, only not to risk another quarrel. But she really wished he had a little more empathy and would not constantly try to sneak into her pants at the most unlucky moments and places.

Tonight he was once again not at all understanding about the fact that she felt too worn out to think of sex at all.

“You know what, Hermione?” he snapped angrily, “You always find a good excuse to keep me off! I really don’t know if you are doing it on purpose, or if you really don’t realise, how annoying your prudish attitude on sex is!”

“Maybe it is because you haven’t yet noticed that it’s not always a good thing if you catch the Snitch first! Did you ever think of that!?” she gave back, rather snappy herself.  “Sometimes it might be better to be the second for a change!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” he snapped.

“That you could care a little more about how I feel when you jump me!” she yelled in rage. 

“Ha –Don’t tell me you don’t like it!” he gave back rather nastily.

That did it. Infuriated Hermione jumped to her feet. “No! To tell you frankly, I don’t like it at all, Harry!”

At her furious outburst he leaped to his feet as well. “Is that so?!”

“Not like this at least,” she added more calmly and with a rather sad note in her voice. “Please, Harry, I don’t want to argue with you. I’m beat, honestly and I don’t feel too well.  Can’t we just lay down and hold each other close for a while? Maybe I’ll be in the mood later on tonight, but now – ”

Her explanation seemed to only infuriate him further, though. “Oh come on, Hermione,” he yelled, “I’m really sick of all this - lovey-dovey cosiness! Don’t tell me you want me to be pleased with all that cuddling-stuff!”

“Well, I’m certainly not pleased by getting my skirt dragged up in some nook in the halls to be screwed against a pillar!” she snapped angrily. “The only good thing with that is that it usually lasts no longer than a few thrusts!”

“Fine then,” he yelled. “I’ll return to my dormitory to jerk off then. As usual. It probably doesn’t make much sense if I stay here tonight!!”   

“No, Hermione pointed out sharply. “I don’t think that’s a good idea!”

OO

After that argument, Hermione felt the intense urge to cry, but withstood it stubbornly. She wandered across the room to look out of one of the high windows behind her desk instead, her arms defensively folded around herself.  

She was glad when the door to her rooms suddenly opened again. Her heart fluttered happily as she supposed Harry to have come back to apologise for his rudeness. But when she whirled around to face him, she froze on the spot.

Instead of Harry, the tall, lean form of Draco Malfoy leaned in the door frame. “Trouble in paradise?” he drawled, a smug expression on his face.

Startled Hermione rushed across the room towards him. “How dare you – ” she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “How do you know the password?”

“Aww – it wasn’t really hard to miss, with Potter’s mood at his exit, you know? I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole school had heard him screaming ‘Snitch’, when he left. And not just that I might point out. Or have I been mistaken, was it ‘Snatch’?” he sniggered.

Given the password, the door closed behind him and Malfoy stepped further into the room. Hermione flashed him an angry glare. “Sod off, Malfoy!” 

“Now, now, Granger – language – what would the poor, innocent first years think, if they were to hear their precious Head Girl cursing like this?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes to small slits. “What’s that supposed to mean? Spit it out, or shove off! I tell you, I’m not in the mood for playing games!”

“Mmm, you seem to never be – in the mood, as you put it. Are you?” he asked with a fake softness.

“Oh, you have been eavesdropping!” Hermione flew out “That’s pathetic! Even for you Malfoy, honestly.”

“Hit a nerve there, didn’t I, Granger?” he taunted with a smirk. “Well, your dear – Star Seeker – ” he drawled, with a mocking stress on the words, “isn’t especially tongue-tied and therefore – ” another meaningful glance, “I came to overhear some er – conversations – I’d rather not have witnessed.”    

Hermione felt her cheeks turning bright red. Much to her dismay, Malfoy noticed it, too and quitted his observation with a sharp, cruel laugh. “I see, you get the point, Granger,” he smirked. “That’s very fortunate.”

Stiffly Hermione stretched her posture. “No, I don’t get it, I’m afraid, Malfoy,” she sniffed.

Ignoring her obvious rejection, he settled himself comfortably on the couch, folded his arms provocatively and casually crossed his outstretched legs. “You see, Mudblood,” he drawled, “You and I are going to come to an arrangement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That was a quick update, wasn’t it? Thanks for reading! 
> 
> The first two vertebrae of the neck spine are anatomically called Atlas and Axis. Since there is a geographical meaning to both terms as well, I supposed them to be a suitable name for a man, who got his neck broken by an atlas.
> 
> Just to spare confusion: ‘Snitch’ is used as a metaphor for climax in general, not just for the female orgasm. And as Harry is an extraordinary quick Seeker, he usually ends the game by catching his 'Snitch' after a few moments...
> 
> Smiles, Serpentina


	4. A puppet on strings

Incredulously, Hermione stared at the obnoxious blond boy, who was seated at her couch, a smug expression on his face.

“You see, taking my duties as Head Boy seriously as I do, I really can’t be bothered with trivialities like – homework. Don’t you agree with that?” 

At her blunt look his lips twitched into a cruel smirk. “And having an affinity to schoolwork as you do, it will hardly take you much trouble to do me that little favour, would it?”

“Why the heck should I do such a thing, Malfoy?” Hermione glared, infuriated at the nerve of him.

“Well, be-cau-se Granger,” he drawled, fixing her with a nasty stare, “I might forget about Potter’s earlier visit and the topic of your errw – discussion – then. You wouldn’t want me to accidentally slip word of this, would you? You see, I might not be able to constantly remember that I mustn’t talk about it, if I have all that schoolwork to do in addition to my Head Boy duties and – Quidditch training – ” he declared, with sickening stress on the last item.  

“Being raised in a decent wizarding family it’s really shocking for me to know about such shameless occupations going on next to my door. Not to mention that Potter’s tawdriness costs me a great deal of my good night’s sleep.” 

Hermione could hardly believe her ears. Was that nasty crank truly pressuring her?

“We have little acceptance for such sluttiness in our world, you see?” he continued with an expression of false pity on his face. “I dread that not even Dumbledore could accept a Head Girl with loose morals like yours. And it doesn’t go at all well with a personal record, if you get sacked after merely a week because of ‘ _inappropriate behaviour’_.”

Hermione swallowed. As much as it pained her to admit it, Malfoy had a point in what he said. Nonetheless she was not willing to get intimidated by his threats.

“How dare you!?” she asked, her voice quivering with anger. “I won’t do such a thing – Malfoy – and I’d like to see how you plan to make me! You can’t prove a bit of this!”   

“Now, now, Granger,” he sniggered nastily and shifted himself into a cosier position on the couch, “there’s no need to bring such enmity into our little bargain. You need to learn a lot of things Granger, honestly. First of all you should bear in mind that knowledge – and I’m not just speaking of books here – is power. And those in possession of it, do set the rules.”

He shrugged nonchalantly before he continued in a bored voice as if lecturing an extraordinarily dull child: “Proved or not, the nasty thing with rumours is that they continue to spread, the more the one accused tries to hush them up. Besides that, do you really think it would cause me much trouble to arrange a situation that gets you caught in the act – literally, I might point out.”

Despite his openly threatening words he cast her an almost angelic little smile which tended to annoy her even further.

“And – what – exactly do you want me to do, Malfoy?!” Hermione snapped bitterly, finally admitting her defeat.

“Well… for now, it should be enough if you do my homework and don’t show off in those classes we have together, so that my – true talent – is no longer overshadowed by your over-eager behaviour in class,” he drawled smugly.

**OO**

After this conversation Hermione felt even more reluctant about meeting Harry in her rooms. The idea that Malfoy knew what they did made her cringe with embarrassment, even if she cast a Silence Spell on her rooms.

She had tried to convince Harry of the necessity to be more discreet in their actions, but once again, he’d had a different idea of this.

When Hermione had told him that she’d rather not meet him in her quarters at night time – just to be sure – he had eagerly suggested to move their occupations to other parts of the castle instead, an empty classroom maybe, the common room at night time, or a closet; but Hermione was too much afraid to be discovered.

After another heated argument about their different views on the matter, Harry had stormed off to Gryffindor Tower.

OO

They didn’t speak much to each other for the next couple of days. But even if Hermione was sad about their quarrel, she had hardly time to worry about his absence in the evenings. With Malfoy’s homework on top of hers, her afternoons and evenings were filled with schoolwork, anyway.

OO

When on Wednesday the next Potions lesson arrived, she felt a nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Malfoy had told her that she must not raise her hand at all that day, no matter what Snape asked. She was inwardly boiling with rage for his impudence, but she knew there was little she could do.

Tensely she sat down in her usual seat beside Harry and waited for Snape to enter the classroom. In the row behind them Ron and Lavender were constantly whispering to each other and made her all the more aware of the bitter silence between Harry and her. She felt so bad about this, but was too proud to just ‘apologise’ for her attitude.

A glance at the Slytherin side of the room did not do much to improve her mood. With a smug grin, Draco Malfoy fixed her gaze. In the dim atmosphere of the Potions classroom, his light-blonde hair stood out even more against the others. He did not look at all stressed, or tired like she was and Hermione felt anger boiling up inside her at his smug, self-satisfied expression.  

A few moments later, Snape entered the classroom, his black robes billowing behind him. The lesson was to begin.

Their Potions Master was in no good mood that day and Hermione wondered if he’d had bad news about Voldemort.

Knowing his students well enough, Snape kept asking each of them questions that were just barely beyond their knowledge and seemed to draw sickening pleasure out of taking points from them, if the answer was incorrect or incomplete. Gryffindor students that was.

He had already picked on Parvati, Seamus and Ron and was currently pressing Neville about the twelve uses of dragon blood, of which poor Neville could not name a single one.

Another jolt of anger filled Hermione.

How mean of Snape to frighten her friend so much that he could not remember a single thing she had tutored him on. She was itching to raise her hand and tell the right answer, but unfortunately, Malfoy’s mocking gaze rested on her and she did not dare to break their ‘arrangement’.

Snape had obviously noticed her unusual behaviour as well, as his dark eyes glittered more than once in her direction, waiting for her to raise her hand so that he could ignore it. For all it seemed, he was kind of thoughtful about her change of behaviour. Maybe he supposed she had just given up trying, after being ignored so often in previous years.

After poor Neville had stammered another wrong guess about what the ninth use of dragon blood might be, Snape decided to let him off the hook and focused his attention on her instead.

“Miss Granger,” he asked in false surprise, “wouldn’t you like to fill in for your unlucky Housemate and list the 12 uses to the class? Are you not eager to regale us all with your extensive knowledge today?”   

Hermione felt every pair of eyes in the classroom resting on her. She was sure that some of her fellow students had already asked themselves the same question. Nervously she let her gaze wander around the dungeon, trying to buy herself some time to find out if Malfoy’s instruction not to give any answer that day included a situation like this. For Snape and everybody else it must have given the impression that she didn’t know the answer.

For everybody – with the exception of Draco Malfoy. But once Hermione caught a glimpse of his cold grey eyes, her heart sank. It was unmistakably clear what he wanted her to do. And she – she hated to admit it to herself – was too cowardly to withstand his threat. Nervously she cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know, Sir,” she responded, fully aware of the shocked silence around her.

“Indeed?” Snape asked, silkily. “Well that is a pity. That’s five points off Gryffindor, I’m afraid. You’ll have to pay more attention to your schoolwork, Miss Granger. It won’t do for you neglect you studies above your new responsibilities as Head Girl. But then, not everyone can live up to the hopes placed on them.”

With meaningful stress on the last words he turned his eyes at Malfoy, who smirked at her, with a glow of triumph on his face.

“But I’m convinced Mr. Malfoy will be able to tell us the correct answer,” Snape added with mock kindness. 

“Of course, Sir,” the blond Slytherin responded eagerly and started to list all the various uses of dragon blood, fixing Hermione’s gaze with a smug expression of victory in his icy-grey eyes.

Hermione silently grit her teeth, thinking of her very own twelve glorious uses of ‘the blood of a dragon’. Or at least of twelve pleasant ways to get rid of the bloody git. ‘Wring his neck. Scale and roast him. Hang him from the ceiling by his – erm – ears …’ 

**OO**

Cool morning air reddened his cheeks and tousled his usually neatly set hair, but Draco just gripped his broom tighter and fixed his eyes on the glittering surface of the lake beneath. He was constantly gathering up speed as he darted down like a hawk towards its prey. He was still thirty feet above the water, but was quickly nearing its silvery, blinking, smoothness whose countless little waves were glittering in the morning light.

Twenty feet.

A nervous knot formed in his stomach, but yet he was not willing to pull away. At fifteen feet he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he still tried to hurtle a little further down.

At ten feet finally his courage left him and he pulled his broom up so violently, that he was whirled around in a loop and almost lost the control of his new Nimbus 2007. For a moment he truly expected to get kicked headfirst into the water, but after a few seconds of slaloming, he managed to stabilise his flight.

With a rush of relief he exhaled the breath he’d been holding and floated at a height of six feet above the water. Slowly his heartbeat normalised again, but his hands still shook heavily.

This – had been close.

Turning his broomstick into an upwards angle, he slowly rose into the air again to give it another try. He still couldn’t manage to imitate a Wronski Feint as well as Potter, but he tried his best. For reasons of safety he practised this manoeuvre above the lake instead of solid ground. And for reasons of his own pride, he picked the early hours of the day for this to spare himself the embarrassment of being watched, should he miscalculate his moves. So far he had been lucky, though.

Once more he tried to figure out how deep he could dare to dart down at diving speed, before he had to pull his broom into a horizontal position, but this time he did not dare to dive as deep as before. Too fresh was the uncomfortable feeling of almost falling off his broom and yet he hadnnot the courage to risk as much as he had before.   

He decided that it was time to head back to the castle if he didn’t want to be seen.

He was quite proud of himself and not willing to let the bloody Wronski Feint spoil his mood. Yesterday’s Potions lesson had been a full success. Granger had actually pretended to not know the answer and just as he had hoped, Snape had picked him to answer it in her place. He wouldn’t have expected his plan to work out that well. For all it looked like this school year promised to become a lot of fun.

**OO**

Hermione started to feel clearly separated from her friends, but could not think of anything she could change about the situation. During daytime she was usually so busy with classes and her tasks as Head Girl, like taking care of the personal problems of her fellow students; and in the evenings she had to either patrol one of the corridors or catch up on homework, her own and – Draco – bloody – Malfoy’s.

The nasty git was now showing up at her rooms every evening after dinner and collected his prep and since she wanted to get rid of his presence as soon as possible, she always did his essays first. For that reason her own work had to be cut down to a minimum more and more often these days.

It did not help much that Ginny used to turn to her for comfort on a regular basis. And even if she just came for a girls’chat, Hermione did not have the heart to send her friend away. In a way, she was actually glad for her visits, even if they put her behind in her own timetable, as she was starting to feel rather lonely. 

The situation with Harry was still difficult and though they were speaking – and sleeping – together again, the relationship had noticeably cooled. Too often had each of them felt disappointed by the other.

Hermione was quite upset about the lack of warmth and closeness between them. She still cared a great deal about Harry, and it hurt when he just rolled off her after sex and slept, or simply left soon afterwards.

On the other hand it was probably a good thing that he did not spend the nights at her quarters anymore, as she needed the time to get her homework done. She still had not told him that Malfoy was blackmailing her, as she feared he might do something stupid that might provoke Malfoy and cause him to divulge her secret.  

It was rather stressful to spend an evening in each other’s company, if one had to constantly watch one’s every word so not to risk another quarrel. Therefore Hermione was in a way glad that Quidditch training had started again. Of course Harry expected her to come to the pitch at early mornings or late evenings to watch him fly; a few times she had forced herself to go, but it conflicted rather bluntly with her self-imposed schedule.

OO

When, by the end of September, the first Hogsmeade weekend arrived, she told her friends that she would not come along because of all the extra work she had to put up with. With a sharp clattering Harry put his knife down to his plate. “You’re kidding, right!?”

Even Lavender and Ron stopped talking and merely stared at her. “Hermione,” Ron complained, “you can’t be serious about that! Are you?” And Lavender started to chatter excitedly to make her change her mind.

But it was Ginny’s reaction that made her almost give in. She suddenly seemed at the edge of tears and stared down at her plate. “If Hermione stays, I won’t go either,” she muttered.

Ever since the attack it had been difficult to persuade her to visit the little wizarding settlement, but thanks to Hermione’s careful investigation, Ginny had finally accompanied them. She just refused to ever visit the joke shop again. After Fred’s death, George run the store alone and it had been renamed from ‘Double Trouble’ into ‘Weasley’s Worrisome Wit’. Since Harry and Ron always stopped there to meet George and pick a few new things to ‘torture’ their fellow students, Hermione and Ginny had spend the time on themselves, while Lavender met with Parvati to have a look at ‘Madam Stitches’ newest collection of dress robes, an occupation Ginny had little interest in.   

“Oh no, you’ll come with Ron and me!” Harry told her, his eyes furiously fixing Hermione with an expression of: ‘Look what you’ve done.’

At his offer Ginny looked up at him, with an expression of doubt on her face. “But I don’t want to go – _there_ – You know.”

Harry flashed her a calming smile. “It’s OK. You needn’t go _there_ , Gin. We’ll owl George that we won’t come to see him at the shop this time. Maybe he’d like to shut it down for an hour or two, or leave it to the hands of his assistant and meet us at ‘The Three Broomsticks’; what do you think of that?”

At this suggestion Ginny’s eyes lit up again. “Oh yes,” she smiled, “that’s a perfect idea, Harry!”

After this the conversation turned towards the usual topics of an upcoming Hogsmeade trip and Hermione could focus on her own problems again, now that she did not feel that bad about her friend anymore. Well, at least Ginny was taken care of.

OO

At the beginning of October the stress truly got to her. Hermione felt completely exhausted. She almost never got to bed any earlier than around two o’clock in the mornings and when she woke up, her head seemed to be spinning and she felt slightly sick from the lack of sleep. Today it was worse than usual, though. It took her a whole minute before she felt able to even sit up and when she finally managed to climb out of bed, she had to grab the bedpost for support until the black spots in front of her eyes cleared. 

Grinding her teeth, she got dressed and prepared herself for class; but the feeling of dizziness only increased when she bent down to put her shoes on.

OO

Classes were a constant worry to her now. Malfoy had started to make her give a wrong answer every now and then so that he could show off correcting her.

During their last lesson, he had even managed to spoil her potion in some way. She had no clue what he had added, but he must have used the opportunity, when Snape had called her towards his desk to lecture her about another wrong answer and give her detention for the evening – the last thing she needed in her current shortage of time. Harry had been fetching some Moon Slugs from the closet in the back of the classroom and had not been watching their potion either.

Shortly after, puffy yellow clouds had emerged from their cauldron and Snape had not been pleased at all. “I tend to believe that this is your fault, Miss Granger,” he had glared at her, “You seem to have completely lost track of your studies. Move over to the Slytherin side, both of you. Mr. Potter, you sit over there, with Mr. Nott. As for you Miss Granger,” he’d added in a dangerously calm voice that spoke of all the dislike he held for her, “you’ll work with Mr. Malfoy for a while and see how it’s properly done.”  

**OO**

Draco Malfoy was quite pleased with the way his plans were proceeding. Granger acted like ‘a puppet on strings’ and only raised her hand or spoke in class, when he wanted. She even gave an incorrect answer every now and then just as he had ordered her to do. It was dead easy.

And his ‘Homework Delivery Service’ worked well enough, too.

He still read the required passages in the textbooks and practised new spells they learned – he did not want to get behind after all – but all the dull, boring things like essays for History of Magic, Astronomy Maps and such he dumped on her – and the results were quite pleasant. On Thursday he had got an A for his Transfiguration essay.

Of course, he still needed to copy her texts down in his own handwriting, but it was much better than doing all the work himself. Maybe he should make her imitate his handwriting.   

Since Snape had paired them up at Potions it was even easier to control her. He simply trod on her toe, or nudged her in the ribs with his elbow when he wanted her to give an incorrect answer. And much to his approval, she played along.

But when he had told her his newest plan today, she had not taken it too well.

He realised that he might have driven it a little too far with his idea that she should make mistakes in the essays she handed in as well as in real exercise papers so that he would get the top mark instead of her. On second thought it was no real surprise that she was not at all willing to play along.

They’d had a despiteful argument about this.

“No way, Malfoy!” she had spat, as he had confronted her with his new plan. “I won’t do that!”

“Watch what you’re saying, Granger,” he had drawled. “Our little arrangement has worked out so well so far. You wouldn’t want to spoil it all, would you?”

This had shut her up for now, but he knew that he had manoeuvred himself onto thin ice there. It was a very difficult situation. He couldn’t allow her to stand up to him, as it would show her that he hadn’t as much of the upper hand as he wanted her to believe. But he couldn’t really report her either because then he couldn't blackmail her anymore.

OO

This rainy, slightly misty Tuesday seemed to have not a moment of rest for her. After another horrible Potions lesson and an endless staff meeting in the afternoon, where she and Malfoy had been ordered to work out suggestions for the upcoming Halloween feast, Hermione returned to her rooms, hoping at least to get his homework done until he came to get his essays.

A slight rain pattered softly against the windows and she was glad to finally have some time to herself. She decided to skip dinner. If she worked really hard for the next couple of hours, maybe she would be able to get to bed earlier that day.

But half an hour later, when the flames in her living room’s fireplace flickered in a merry rhythm there was a knock on the door.

Exasperated, she got up from her desk, where she’d just been busy drawing a complicated Astronomy map for Malfoy – her own would have to wait till later.

It was probably him; she just wondered why he had knocked for a change. Usually he just stepped into the room as he pleased.

But when she opened the door, it was not Malfoy – it was Ginny.

Her shoulders slumped, she looked kind of miserable, as if she expected to be sent off.

“Hi, Hermione, do you have some time?” she smiled and fixed her gaze pleadingly, “ – a little?”

For a moment, Hermione was tempted to say no, but there was something so desperate in the way Ginny looked at her that she just could not do it.

Instead of sending her friend away, she opened the door a little wider and let her pass. “Sure, Gin, come in. What’s the matter?”

The fragile red-head just collapsed into one of the cosy couches, kicked off her shoes and dragged her feet under her body. “I – I wondered, why you’re avoiding me?” she began, “I know you have lots of work, being Head Girl and all, but – Oh Hermione, I miss you so much,” she added, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s not the same in Gryffindor Tower without you.”

Concerned, Hermione looked at her friend. “I’m sorry, Gin, I’d love to spend more time with you, but I’m really swamped with work. You mustn’t think I’m avoiding you. It’s just because of all my work, really.”

She felt so bad. This almost sounded as if she was making up excuses. But to her great relief Ginny shook her head.

“Oh, it’s quite OK, I do get along. And then, there are Harry and Ron, of course, and Lavender is being surprisingly nice recently, but – that’s not the same. Well, not really,” she told her. “Oh Hermione, I don’t want to keep you up, if you’re busy...”

“Well, I really haven’t much time, but – Let’s drink some tea at least, OK?” Hermione suggested with an encouraging smile and got up from her seat.

Inside the small kitchenette, whose style was just as old fashioned as the rest of the castle, she pointed her wand into the little opening of the ancient oven and lit a fire, picked up a kettle from one of the boards and filled it at the stone sink, before she placed the pot onto one of the oven’s plates.

OO

A few minutes later the two girls sat by the fireside again, each with a cup of Rooibos Vanilla Tea on the desk between them. 

“So, what have you been doing lately?” Hermione tried to get the conversation started. 

In a – for her – uncharacteristically shy and distant way, Ginny avoided her friend’s gaze. “Em well, not much, I – I started on runes at Divination last week and yesterday, I fell off my broom and –”

“How was your Hogsmeade weekend?” Hermione asked, bringing her friend’s mindless babbling to the topic she wanted to discuss, or so Hermione supposed.  

Ginny’s head snapped up at that question, her eyes wide with – Fear? Hermione could not quite put a finger on it, but her friend was more than odd today. Maybe it was just the stress, but for some reason, Ginny was acting kind of weird. She appeared nervous and almost – guilty. Hermione frowned at the thought. Well that might be possible; Ginny probably still blamed herself for Fred’s death. 

“Oh, that was quite OK, as well,” Ginny responded and shrugged her shoulders in a casual gesture, but still looked hurt.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t come along, I – Look, I’m really swamped with work. I can’t even see Harry as much as before,” Hermione tried to explain.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that,” her friend stated. “He doesn’t take it too well, does he?”

“No –” Hermione sighed, “not at all. “He thinks it’s personal, but –”

“Yes?” Ginny asked, looking up in surprise all of a sudden. “And – is it?”

“No,” Hermione started hesitatingly, “well, in a way, I guess. It’s kind of complicated.”

“Did you not come along with us that day because of that?” Ginny asked carefully. “Because – well, he was quite mad at you, you know?” she muttered and pulled her jumper’s sleeves over her palms to cup her teacup inside as she leaned back into the pillows, her legs once again drawn beneath herself. 

“Oh,” Hermione breathed, surprised at the turn of conversation and set her teacup back with a slight clattering noise. “Did he say something?” she asked sharply and the flush in Ginny’s cheeks increased.

“Yes, emm, no, but I’ve wondered ... I’ve wondered how – Well, you see, while Ron and Lavender stopped at George’s, Harry suggested to wait for them at ‘The Three Broomsticks’ and – Oh please don’t be mad, but we talked about you then.”

Ginny looked up at Hermione, her huge brown eyes pleadingly fixing those of the older girl. “What exactly do you mean, Ginny?” Hermione asked, slightly anxious.

Ginny nervously wrung her hands in her lap and looked at the wall behind Hermione. “Well, he – thinks you don’t lo- like him anymore. Is that so, Hermione?”

“That’s not a question one could answer with one sentence, Gin,” Hermione sighed. “We’re having some problems at the moment, that’s true, but – I’m sure we’ll fix them – somehow … It’s true, we have different hobbies and erw – interests – and we’ve had some quarrels about that recently, but – But I really care about him, Gin.”

“Oh –” Ginny just muttered and Hermione continued, glad to have a chance to get some of the stress off her chest: “He can’t accept that Quidditch isn’t my favourite topic of discussion and that I don’t jump up at dawn to watch his every training session.”

“But it’s important for him and he wants you to take part in it,” Ginny interjected, “he thinks that you don’t really care about him anymore and that you are glad if he doesn’t drop by in the evenings.”

“Honestly,” Hermione frowned suddenly annoyed by the nerve of him, “you’d think that he could mention these things to me, instead of pouring his heart out about it to you.”

“Didn’t he ever speak about these things to you?” Ginny asked in surprise.  

“Ha – ” Hermione snorted, “no, unfortunately not. He’s usually too preoccupied with – other things –”

Curiously, Ginny leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Hermione just waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, “Umm, nevermind Ginny, nevermind. It’s kind of personal stuff.”

They both fell silent, each sipping on her tea. The soft pattering of rain against the glass and the logs crackling in the fireside were the only noise around. It was pretty dark outside by now just the fire’s warm glow shifted in a flickering pattern across the wooden floor and brought out the highlights in Ginny’s fiery curls. Only the left side of her face and hair was lit by the fire, while the rest of her and most of the room were hidden in darkness.  

“I’m sorry that Harry and you are having such problems,” Ginny began hesitantly after a while. At Hermione’s surprised look she stared into her tea again. “If there’s anything I can do …”

“Oh, no,” Hermione smiled sadly, “I guess we have to figure it out for ourselves. But what about you now? You came to see me about something didn’t you?”

“Oh it’s – kind of complicated. I’m quite confused at the moment … I –”

“What about?” Hermione asked, checking the red-haired girl who literally wrung her hands trying to express herself.

“We’re – talking about boys now, right?” she tried to help.

Ginny drew in a sharp breath, but nodded. “Well, in a way,” she muttered. Staring down to her lap, she continued: “You see, I really – want – to have a boyfriend. Sometimes I feel so lonely that it hurts, but... But I'm having trouble letting go... I'm afraid…of hurting people.”

Thoughtfully Hermione watched her friend for a couple of seconds. She felt so bad for her. It could not be easy for Ginny to talk about her feelings, when the crush she had tried so desperately to overcome, was her best friend’s boyfriend. She did not ask any further as she did not want to pry.

“Oh, I understand, really, but you have to think of yourself – if you aren't getting what you want or need from someone, even if you love them, you just have to move on.”

Ginny looked at her with an odd expression of doubt on her face, before she replaced her tea cup on the table and leaned back into the soft pillows so that her face was almost completely swallowed by the shadows, and hugged her knees. “Do you really think so?” she muttered thoughtfully.

For a second, Hermione had the weird impression that she did not really catch what her friend was talking about. Especially her last sentence had sounded kind of – well, odd. Maybe there was more to it than Ginny had said. But then, she was probably just imagining things, Hermione supposed; as she was unhappy and overtired. But still…

“Gin,” she began, suddenly hesitant to raise the topic at all. This was probably not at all what Ginny had in mind right now, but still – Maybe just because her friend was so inexperienced and vulnerable, it was so important to talk about this.

“Well, you see,” Hermione babbled, “there might be differences of course, but sometimes,” a shadow crossed her face at her next words, “sometimes a boy tries to talk you into something you might not be ready for.”

“You’re speaking of sex now, aren’t you?” Ginny interrupted her and she nodded.

“Yes, exactly. Ginny, have you had – any – experience with it? With sex I mean?  I don't mean to pry, but –”

Hermione checked the younger girl thoughtfully. Maybe it was just the light, but Ginny looked extraordinarily nervous, almost disturbed now. Once again, Hermione had an odd feeling of uneasiness.

“Well... there was this one time – A boy I kind of liked sort of kissed me – and emm – other things,” Ginny muttered after a while.

“But I felt really bad after. I liked it, but it just didn't feel right.”

Hermione frowned at that, suddenly concerned.

“Oh, Ginny that’s – well … I don’t know what to say to this, just – Well, make sure it’s what you want yourself, don’t just play along, Ginny. That’s very important. Don’t do so because you think he’ll get mad at you, or leave you otherwise.”

_‘Ha – isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?’_ a nasty little voice in the back of her mind interjected, but she shook the thought off.

“Oh no, that’s not the problem, Ginny assured her, “I …” she drew in a deep breath and stared to her hands that were still hidden in the inside of her sleeves, but muttered: “Well, we haven’t yet – but I think he might try to get something started any day now and I – I’d probably do it right away with him, then ...”

“Are you sure you really want it this way? If I get you right, you aren’t even dating him –”

The red-head nervously chewed her lip.

“Oh-em – no, but – Well, there’s a lot of tension between us and – the one night, when we almost did it, we were all alone at the common room... He’d been watching me all evening and I was feeling kind of – wriggly – inside. Then he suddenly got up from his seat and sat down on the couch beside me. He started to run his hand up and down my arm and before I could say anything, he kissed me and – Oh Hermione, I couldn’t do a thing. I was really shocked at first and tried to shove him off, but he just gripped my shoulders tighter and kissed me more intensely. And I – I couldn’t help it, I just kissed him back and flung my arms around him – then suddenly he was on top of me and started to drag up my skirt and I – played along. I wanted him so much – Then there was a noise from the stairs and we jumped apart. A moment later someone came into the common room. We didn’t talk at all, not even – then, so I guess, we’re not – together now, but – if there hadn’t been that noise on the stairs, we would have probably done it right there and then. And if it happened again, I wouldn’t hesitate, I – would just do it!”

Hermione just stared at her for a couple of seconds, too shocked by this revelation to respond.

Ginny shifted nervously in her seat. “Do you think that’s naughty?” she asked in a tiny voice.

Hermione shook her head. “No, not for that reason, but you should take yourself time to get to know him better and make sure you – really – want it. I don’t think it’s exactly naughty, but –” she searched for a way to express herself. “But it’s highly uncommon to have sex with a guy at the first date. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it, if you really want it, but he might think – Oh dear, Gin, whatever you do, take at least some care of yourself. I mean –”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Ginny interrupted, “my Mum taught me a spell.”

“Oh,” was all Hermione managed to say to that news. She did not mean to question Mrs. Weasley’s magical skills, but for some reason this information did not really do anything to ease her mind.

“Whatever you decide, just don’t let him just talk you into this, Gin,” Hermione warned, “ –because – well, I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but somehow this whole encounter sounds awfully clumsy and dishonest to me. It’s just so – typical for boys!” she suddenly frowned. “No respect! No sensitivity! Just what they want, they want, they want. It's like you're an object, for their pleasure, and they don't care about your needs!”

With a slight clattering, Ginny set her teacup back on to table. “Gee, Hermione, I didn't realise you had such strong feelings about it. Is that – how you feel about Harry? I have to admit, what happened to me with – well, it was unexpected, but it felt – good! I couldn't imagine being with someone who I didn't like – doing things with me. I mean, sex is such an important part of a relationship.”

Hermione was more than a little surprised to get criticism from her friend in this matter. A stab of anger filled her chest. What did Ginny know of those things? How dare she tell her how to feel about her problems with Harry?

Briskly she leaned forward and poured some more tea into her cup. Her hands were slightly trembling and the china made a clicking sound as the teapot nudged against the cup.   

“I'm not sure where you're getting your information from Ginny, but I'd be careful if I were you,” Hermione stated, trying her best to repress her anger. Maybe she was just so exasperated by Harry’s constant attempts to make her play along that she kind of overreacted now, but somehow Ginny’s attitude truly bugged her. “There are – lots – of more important things than sex, let me tell you. And as for Harry – well, this is just between you and me. I’m not talking about Harry, here.”

_‘But maybe you should,’_ the tiny voice in her head interjected, ‘ _It could be such a relief to share all this trouble with someone...’_

“Oh, I see,” Ginny muttered, leaning back again. “But – don’t you feel good having sex as well? You can’t say it’s just the guys who want it, Hermione that’s not honest either.” She suddenly hesitated and her voice had a strange tone, when she continued. “You do enjoy it, don’t you? You’re – you’re not having – you know a problem with sex in general? Or are you, Hermione?” she asked worriedly.

Once again Hermione sat up, slightly annoyed at the hidden accusation in her friend’s words.  “I don’t think so,” she frowned. “But – Well, let’s just say there are a few sides to Harry – I don’t exactly agree with,” she began carefully, tracing the tip of her index finger nervously along the edge of the table. She felt kind of uncertain about this herself. After all, Harry had asked her the same thing not long ago. And then – he was right, she had not ever climaxed at their encounters, so far. Maybe she really had a problem ... 

“Really?” Ginny interrupted her thoughts, “why?”

Hermione’s head snapped up. “Huuh?” she asked startled.

“What is it you don’t agree with?” Ginny asked softly and Hermione relaxed. Of course Ginny hadn’t referred to her thoughts. She swallowed, glad that the room was so dark and drew in a deep breath.

“Well, he sometimes tries to make me do things – things I’d rather not do. And he knows that –” she whispered, barely audible.

Like Ginny had done before, Hermione drew her legs under her body and leaned back to hide herself in the shadows now.

“What does he try making you do?” Ginny asked with a frown.

“Oh I’d rather not tell, Gin, it’s quite personal, really. I …” Hermione muttered, chewing her lip.

“Oh, come,” Ginny tried to convince her. “Maybe you feel better if you talk about it. You seem rather stressed by this. Just tell me what’s troubling you, Hermione. What does Harry want you to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you lots for the feedback! It’s good to know that you like what I put up so far. Especially this story means a lot to me!
> 
> I know some of you might rather read more about the Draco/Hermione interaction, but I don’t think it would work well to get there too soon. They have quite a lot issues to cross, before they can get as close as I intend them to be.
> 
> As tempting as the idea of a sexual bargain between them might appear at first sight, I don’t think it would do the story any good. At least not for the direction I intend it to go.  
> I don’t want them to have just a physical relationship, but to really fall for each other. This takes some time, but I’m almost sure you’ll like what I have in mind.
> 
> Harry is quite different from the boy he is in the books, but that’s done purposefully. I intended to show how much his fame and uncharacteristic success have influenced him. He got many opportunities to undergo the rules to his liking and never really had to deal with the consequences. He’s seventeen in this fic and has had much time to develop his personality. In his case not for the best. He has become quite selfish and is used to getting his way. In a way he changed just like Dumbledore tried to avoid it when leaving him at the Dursleys’ doorstep. And then, even a person who is your best friend hasn’t necessarily to be a caring partner. 
> 
> I love to twist canon characters like that – just wait what I’ll do to Draco in the following. Tee hee  
> Any Harry/Hermione interaction will end quite soon, while Draco will get more and more into the picture. I just want to avoid too drastic changes in a short time.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this!
> 
> :) Smiles, Serpentina


	5. The couple under the stairs

Once again Hermione restlessly tossed and turned in her bed. She was utterly exhausted, but sleep simply would not come.

Through a gap in the curtains she watched the moon appear every now and then out of a thick, dark-blue blanket of clouds.

According to the spot she had reached in her trace, it must be very late – or rather early – to be precise.

Hermione frowned. Draco Malfoy’s homework had kept her up long past midnight. He had shown up at her rooms only a couple of minutes after Ginny had left and he had not been pleased that Hermione hadn’t had his essay and Astronomy map ready by then.

“Why hello, Mudblood?” he had taunted, “You wouldn’t be getting sloppy in fulfilling your tasks, would you?”

Once again he had reminded her more than arrogantly that they had a bargain and that she would do much better if she did not forget about it. And once again she had not dared to throw his bloody essay in his smug grinning face. She feared that it would have been a costly pleasure.

Boiling with rage she had completed his Astronomy map and had written the History and Arithmancy essays.

She had itched to purposely make mistakes, or to inweave some obvious inaccuracies that would embarrass him if he read the text aloud, or handed it in, but – she had not dared. He had too much of a hold over her.

Besides that, she doubted that it would have worked anyway. Although he did not study half as much as she did, Draco Malfoy was no moron. She was pretty sure that he read through his essays, or most likely even copied them in his own handwriting, before he handed them in. He would have probably noticed her little ‘revenge’ right away. And if he were to notice – Well, she did not really want to dwell on the idea of what he might do if she ever gave in to that urge to get back at him. 

But it was still a nice thought to imagine him making a fool out of himself by reading some utter rubbish aloud to the class. Preferably Potions class…

A slight smile crossed Hermione’s face as she curled up on her other side and tugged the pillow into a tight little ball under her head. Now that she no longer faced the window, the room appeared much darker, but she still could not sleep. 

Once more her thoughts wandered off towards her conversation with Malfoy. He had not put up with her for long, after he found out that she had not completed her tasks. He had merely sneered at her and told her to deliver the work to his rooms as soon as she was done. Or preferably in the morning, before they headed down to breakfast.

With a grave sigh, Hermione shifted her position again.

At least Ginny had not been around anymore upon Malfoy’s entry. Hermione was glad about that, as she did not want anyone to know of the humiliating blackmailing.

Ginny – Unhappily, Hermione mused over the fact that she did not really feel much better after pouring her heart out to her friend.

After some struggling she had told her how much Harry’s lack of empathy bothered her and how hesitant she felt about his sudden approaches and his liking for unusual times and places, as well as his attempts to make her use her mouth on him.

But Ginny had reacted so differently than Hermione had anticipated. Although she had hardly any experience yet, Ginny seemed to be less troubled by those ideas than Hermione had expected and Hermione was not sure if her friend had really understood her dismay.

According to the encounter in the common room, Ginny probably reacted more on impulse than Hermione and did not question her every action twice – Or she simply was not as cold and unfeeling as Hermione was – A thought that once again led her to self doubt and the nagging feeling of failing Harry’s expectations. Was it really her fault that their relationship had cooled that much during the previous months? Was she really driving him away?

Maybe he was not entirely wrong about his complaints?

Hermione was not sure of that. How could he call her cold if she longed that much for his closeness? Wasn’t he the cold one instead?

Once again Ginny’s voice echoed in her mind.

_‘You do enjoy it, don’t you? You’re – you’re not having – you know a problem with sex in general? Or are you, Hermione?’_ she had asked and had looked at her all funny when Hermione had told her that there were much more important parts of a relationship than sex.

But Hermione had never said she did not want to have sex, had she? She simply could not imagine getting so carried away as to forget all about her surroundings – like Ginny had been with that mysterious boy in the common room.

She frowned once more – was that really a bad thing, she wondered. Wasn’t it much more important to be sure of one’s actions and not to lose one’s head in the heat of the moment? Why was Ginny giving her the feeling of being wrong – just like Harry did? Instead of releasing some of the pressure she felt, the conversation with Ginny had made Hermione feel even worse. She could sense the prickling of tears behind her lids and had to swallow against the tight feeling in her throat.

But it was to no use. Pinching her eyes shut in frustration, Hermione felt the warm rinse of tears spill down across her cheeks. What a fitting end to a horrible day. With a slight sob she buried her face in her pillow and tried to block every thought of Malfoy, Harry and Ginny from her mind.  

**OO**

“Miss Granger,” Professor Vector asked at the beginning of their next morning’s Arithmancy class, “Wouldn’t you like to read the results of your calculations aloud to the class? You’ve been very quiet lately.”

With a complacent smirk, Draco leaned back in his seat. This promised to be fun. He could hardly wait to see the look of surprise on Professor Vector’s face, when her precious Star Student would give an incorrect answer. Because an incorrect answer she had to give, that much was for sure. She would not dare to have all ten tasks right. He just wondered how many ‘mistakes’ she had faked.

His curiosity was answered soon enough as he compared her answers to those on the parchment in front of him. Tasks two and four differed from ‘his’ calculations.

‘Neat job,’ he decided. She had neither dared to have everything correct, nor had she thrown in a ridiculous number of mistakes that would have been unlikely to be believed.

Just as he had expected Vector’s face fell. With a slight frown she looked at Granger. “Mmm- there are some mistakes to be taken care of, I’m afraid.” she told her, and Draco noted with satisfaction how Granger seemed to shrink in her chair under the shocked stares of their fellow students.

Never in the four years they sat in this class, had any of them seen Hermione Granger give an incorrect answer. Hannah Abbott’s mouth was hanging slightly open with surprise and Seamus Finnigan started to nervously go through his calculations again. It was utterly clear that none of them wanted to read their answers aloud, if even Hermione had made ‘some’ mistakes.  

Draco did not even bother to hide his smirk and it was only because of their Head Student positions that he did not make any comment. He merely waited for Vector to turn her face to the class again.

“Who else would like to read his results to the class, before we take a closer look at the mistakes Miss Granger made?”

Very pleased that no one else volunteered, Draco lazily raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor Vector addressed him hopefully and Draco started to read his answers aloud in his usual, slightly bored kind of voice, revelling in his triumph.

Only when he looked up from his parchment again, did he notice the dark expression on the Professor’s face. “Well, I have to say, I certainly didn’t expect this,” Vector exclaimed with undeniable disappointment.

Draco’s face fell. He cast a suspicious glance at Granger, who looked kind of clueless herself. “You managed to avoid two of the mistakes Miss Granger made, but there are still three tasks wrong, Mr. Malfoy,” Vector informed him. “Strangely you both got tasks one, seven and ten wrong. Miss Granger also mishandled numbers two and four, which are correct in your case. I have to say, I’m more than surprised by this.”

She cast a meaningful look at the both of them. “Can you tell me how you managed to not only get the same tasks wrong, but to also make the very same mistakes about them?” 

Too shocked to come up with a believable answer, Draco shook his head. “No Professor, I’m afraid .. I …”

Behind him he could hear Finnigan and his friend sniggering. “Maybe they did their homework together.”

“Not bloody likely,” Thomas commented dryly and both snorted with another fit of laughter.

A stern look from Professor Vector silenced them again.

“Did you copy each other’s work?” she addressed Draco, who like Granger, shook his head in denial now.

Their teacher did not look convinced, though. “Be that as it may,” she declared, after a couple of seconds, “you’ll both rework your tasks and hand them in this afternoon. And I really hope no more of these curious _‘acts of divination’_ will occur.”

Once again, both of them just shook their heads.

Draco sat through the rest of the lesson in silence. He was so mad that he did not trust himself to even glance in Granger’s direction. How dare she!? How dare she to make a fool out of him like this?! She must have done this on purpose, he decided. Why else hadn’t she had his homework ready yesterday evening? She had known that he would not have time to read through it, or even copy it in the morning. What a bloody, freaking cow! But he was not going to let her get away with that.

**OO**

The tip of Hermione’s feather-quill was quivering when she copied the correct answers from the board as her hands were shaking with excitement.

She tried her best to focus on the lesson, but her mind was still preoccupied with the unlucky homework.

A careful side-glance at Malfoy told her that he was not concentrating on the lesson, either. He stared furiously at a spot on the wall next to the board. Pink patches showed on his cheeks, his lips were pressed into a thin line and his brows were creased. His facial expression was that of utter annoyance and barely repressed fury. All in all he looked angry enough to wring her neck.

But despite what he thought, she had not planned this.

She had never intended to make so many mistakes, just two of the five wrong calculations in her own essay had been done purposely. The three mistakes she and Malfoy had in common had been completely unplanned. But then, she had been quite exhausted the night before and still taken up with her earlier conversation with Ginny, which had troubled her a lot more than she had let her friend see. 

All that had made her uncharacteristically sloppy and now she had to deal with the mess. She just hoped Malfoy would believe her and would not do anything stupid.

OO

But she had barely left the classroom and headed for the stairs, when a figure stepped out of the shadowy nook to her right and grabbed her by the upper arms. Before she had the chance to back away, she was whirled around and roughly pushed against the wall.

She gasped as her back collided with the stone and tried to rush past her captor, but it was to no use. He blocked her way and she found herself staring into the angry grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?!” he snarled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered, angry at the frightened note in her voice.

Obviously Malfoy had noted it, too. The bruising grip around her upper arms loosened a bit, but he still held her in place. “Do you think me stupid, Granger?” he hissed.     

With a sudden stab of anger, Hermione straightened her shoulders. “Are you sure you want an answer to that?” she glared back. “Let the bloody hell go of me, Malfoy! How dare you treat me like this?!”

“What else do you expect after that trick you played on me?!” he snapped.

Nervously, Hermione craned her neck, searching vainly for a friendly face in the hallway. She had been the last to leave the classroom and right now there was no one around to notice. She drew in a deep breath.

“Look, Malfoy, I didn’t plan for this to happen,” she sighed. “It was an accident. OK? Now let go – will you?”

When he did not move, she roughly pressed her palms against his chest and once again tried to shove him out of her way.

“I said ‘Let go!’” she repeated more sharply, but he just caught her wrists and pinned them in a painfully tight grip against the wall above her head.

“Well, let me assure you then,” he told her in a fake soft voice that did not at all suit his threatening gesture. “One more of your – so called accidents – and I’ll – accidentally – slip a lot of troublesome information about your night time rendezvous’.” 

Despite her anger, Hermione started to feel really afraid now. Malfoy was so much stronger than her and so damn outraged. She tried to wrestle from his grip and brought her knee up in a desperate attempt to kick him in the crotch, but obviously he had foreseen her action and shifted his position in time so that her knee merely hit his thigh instead.

“Bitch!” he gasped and pressed her so closely against the wall that she had no chance to kick him again. “Don’t you ever try that again –” he hissed at her. “Do you hear me?”

Trapped between the wall and his body, Hermione started to truly panic.

“Are you afraid, Granger?” Malfoy mumbled, noticing her quivering. “Well, you had better be. But – don’t flatter yourself,” he added with a smirk. “I have no desire to put up with Potter’s little bed-mate. Yuck! And a filthy Mudblood at that! There are other ways to make you pay, believe me.”

With that, all of a sudden, he let go of her – so abruptly that she almost fell – and pushed her off him. “As for now – go – take care of my essay.”

**OO**

 “…and therefore the Goblin rebellion of 1649 was of utmost importance to the development of …”

Draco just couldn’t manage to concentrate on the interminable, passionless lecture of the transparent old man in front of them. Professor Binns’ lessons always made him either drowsy, or they had simply carried his thoughts away to a more captivating topic. Today he had indeed a more interesting matter to think about.    

Hermione Granger.

Not her in person, of course, but the recent developments of their bargain. Since the infuriating encounter in Arithmancy class at the beginning of the week, she seemed to finally come to her senses, which was a good thing at that.

Nonetheless his feelings were quite mixed, when he remembered their last Potions class.

Snape had handed back their exam papers on Invisibility Potions and while Draco had got an A, Granger’d had a big, clear C beneath her work. She had actually played along; he would not have expected that.

And so thoroughly! It would have been enough if she had allowed her grade to slip to a B. But then, whatever Hermione Granger did, she did soundly. If she decided to let her grades slip, she did not put up with a mere B. No, it had to be a C. What fun!

He should have been happy about his successes, but yet, he was not. He was pretty sure that her sudden change of mind had to do with the argument they’d had about the trick she had played on him regarding his Arithmancy homework, and that was what bugged him. She had been truly afraid of him, when he had trapped her on the corridor afterwards. He had noticed her obviously trembling and had appreciated it as he was really angry at her, and her fear had come in handy to make her take him seriously. 

He had not intended to physically threaten her, though; just keep her in line and make sure she would not mess with him like that again. It was her own fault that she’d had to react so utterly annoyingly and put up a fight, wasn’t it? But still, he was not too happy about the way their ‘discussion’ had proceeded. In fact he had felt a stab of discomfort and regret at the sight of the reddish bruises his fingers had left on her wrists.

He had only caught a short glimpse of them, when she had rolled her sleeves up to pick some shrivel-figs out of the jar at their last Potions class, but he could not get rid of that image ever since. He had wondered if his grip had left similar marks on her upper arms. And now, he even mused over the question of what she might have told Potter if he had noticed them. 

Well, whatever – for all it looked like she had come to finally acknowledge that he had the upper hand in their little bargain. He should not waste so many thoughts on that matter – he had better concentrated on what else he could make her do.

**OO**

In fact, Hermione was quite upset about her grade. She had never got a C before. 

It was no wonder that Malfoy got a better mark as he had more than enough time to prepare for the exam, while she’d hardly had any time to study as she was busy accomplishing most of his homework in addition to her own.

It just troubled her that he probably believed now that she had given in, which was not at all the case. She had not by any means allowed her grade to decrease on purpose. She had tried her best, despite all of Malfoy’s stupid threats, but somehow it had not been enough. She just could not do any better at the moment.

First she only blamed it on all the extra work and lack of sleep, but when, a few days later, she did not feel any better, she started to wonder what was wrong with her.

Every morning, she had to open and pinch her eyes shut several times, before her vision cleared and even then, when she finally sat up, the whole bedroom seemed to sway. It was very annoying to put it mildly.

Just like today – But even this morning she could not just crawl back into bed as much as she would have liked to. It was the first Saturday of October and the Quidditch season had started again. Today the first game, between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, would take place and she absolutely had to make it. Harry had been extremely displeased that she had so seldom observed his training since they had returned to the school. He had told her that even Lavender and Ginny had come to watch Ron, who had been practising his new position as Chaser. And Harry would take it very badly if she did not watch him play today.

With a grave sigh, Hermione brushed her hair and fixed it into a loose ponytail at the back of her neck with a blue ribbon. Even her hair seemed unable to withstand her efforts to tame it. Her face stared back at her out of the mirror. Pale and thin, with purple shadows under her eyes, she did not look well at all.

As little as she usually cared for matters as looks, enough was enough. Determined to let no one see her like this, Hermione reached for the concealment stick Lavender had given her to her last birthday. She covered the purple rings under her eyes and added at least a haze of rouge to her ghostly white cheeks. Pleased with the result, she straightened her shoulders and left her quarters.              

OO

But the loud, excited atmosphere at the breakfast table really got to her and the mere vision of the pile of scrambled eggs and fatty sausages that Ron filled on his plate, made the sip of her orange juice she had just taken, taste bitter in her throat. She coughed and had to pinch her eyes shut for a moment to wait for the sensation of her protesting stomach to subside again. Not trusting her stomach to accept anything else, she merely nibbled on a dry piece of toast.

The usual excitement of the morning of a Quidditch game filled the Great Hall, and therefore no one paid much attention to her. Ginny and Lavender bustled over Harry and Ron and told them that they would do fine at the game.

Quietly, Hermione rose from her seat. “Where are you going?” Harry asked, confused. It was the first time that he had come to actually notice her presence this morning. 

“Just collecting my shawl. I forgot to bring it along,” Hermione told him.

“Yeah, OK,” he frowned, “but you’d better hurry, we’ll leave for the pitch pretty soon.”

“Oh that’s quite all right,” Hermione assured him. “Don’t wait for me, I’ll catch up with you.” He nodded, but she noticed that he didn’t really listen since Ron and the other team members had caught his interest again. Quietly, Hermione left the Great Hall and headed for her quarters.

Never before had it appeared so many stairs to her and when she finally reached her rooms, her head was spinning and a thin layer of cold sweat covered her forehead. _‘Maybe I’m falling ill,’_ she mused as she went into the bedroom to get her shawl. But when she bent down to open the chest of drawers, a new wave of dizziness captured her.

With a feeling of unsteadiness in her knees, she sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. The whole room seemed to spin around her. With a slight moan she lay back across the bed and waited for the weird feeling to disappear, but it simply would not subside.

She had really wanted to watch the Quidditch game. She did not intend to make things worse between Harry and her, wanted to show him that she cared for him and the things that mattered to him, but she felt so bad all of a sudden that she just could not bring herself to get up again.

OO

When she climbed through the portrait hole, a wave of laughter and excited yells assaulted her senses. The Victory Feast for the Gryffindor Quidditch team was already in full progress.

It was a very loud and cheerful atmosphere and the air was hot and a little stale.

Someone had enchanted an old mechanical gramophone, that worked without electricity, to play CDs as well as records and quite a lot of students were dancing alone or in pairs.

Just as everyone had expected, Harry had caught the Snitch shortly after the opening whistle, and had won the game against Ravenclaw before anyone had had the chance to score.

Much to her dismay, Hermione had missed the game, though. She had jerked awake with a stab of bad conscience at early afternoon.

For all it appeared, Harry had not taken her absence well. He had not come to look for her all day and now in the evening and Hermione was truly nervous about facing him in front of their friends.

Certainly, she could have searched for him herself and explained why she had not come, but somehow she doubted that would have made much difference and therefore she had preferred to avoid the trouble.

After scanning the room for a couple of seconds Hermione recognised Harry, Ron, Lavender and Ginny standing at a table by the window, laden with food and drinks.

None of them looked in her direction and she had to worm her way through the crowd to reach them. A couple of students congratulated her on Harry’s success and by the time she finally dragged herself loose, her face felt tired from the constant smile, with which she thanked everyone and assured them that everything was fine and that she simply had not managed to come and see the game. 

Only when she had almost reached her friends, Ron, whose arm was draped tightly around Lavender’s shoulders, turned his head. “Ah Hermione! There you are! Hey, hello, Hermione – we’re over here!” he shouted and waved his hand at her.

With a smile, Hermione headed his way, relieved to escape all those uncomfortable questions; but Ron’s next words made her face fall.

“What kept you so long?” he frowned, when she had finally made it through the crowd.

Nervously, her eyes wandered towards Harry, who was still wrapped up in his conversation with Ginny and had not cast a single glance at her so far.

She knew he was probably quite mad at her for not coming to the pitch, after all he had not even come to search for her after the game, but his blatant indifference truly hurt her.

In fact, he acted just like the morning at The Burrow, after they’d had that quarrel during the night. He once again got back at her by focusing his attention on Ginny instead.

Hermione noticed with unease that he had placed one hand at Ginny’s upper arm and bent down to whisper something in her ear. Ginny touched his hand, resting on her arm in a casual movement as she leaned closer towards him to listen and when she tilted back again, the soft ring of her laughter filled the air. She gazed up to him, her eyes bright and shining.

Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, Hermione took a step in their direction. “Hello Harry,” she pressed out, forcing a smile to her lips.

He turned and looked at her, but made no attempt to hug her, or welcome her in any other way. “Oh hello, Hermione,” he stated coolly and the lump in her throat thickened. “How nice that you could find the time to drop by.”

“Harry – ” she began quite helplessly. “I’m sorry – I … look, I …”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, no need to worry, Hermione, I got along quite well on my own.”

Hermione had the intense urge to just turn on her heel and hurry back to her rooms, but withstood the impulse. “I heard you won the game,” she stammered, nervous all of a sudden and completely uncertain of what to do with her hands. She noticed that some fellow students were watching them with interest.

“It’s Hermione, look, over there...” she heard Seamus Finnigan mutter as he elbowed his friend Dean Thomas in the ribs and nodded in their direction; and a few meters to their right, Parvati Patil craned her neck to see.

Hermione felt the blood creeping into her cheeks. She actually felt corny talking to her own boyfriend all of a sudden.

It was true, she somewhat deserved Harry’s anger, she told herself, but did he really need to give her such hard time about it?

Courageously, she stepped forward.  “My congratulations! Too bad I could not come to see you play,” she muttered in a rush, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

He still made no effort to embrace her, but placed a hand at her hip. She could not get rid of the impression that he only did so to keep her off. Though he remained quite unaffected on the outside, Hermione felt his whole posture tense as her lips made contact with the skin of his cheek.

“Thank you Hermione,” he told her not unkindly, but lacking any display of emotion, “If you would excuse me for a moment, I was about to get a drink for Ginny.”

With that he stepped back and headed for the buffet table. He suddenly stopped and turned his head to look at her. “I’ll get you something too of course, if you wish,” he added as an afterthought.  

Hermione had to swallow again. She knew why he was doing this. So why did it hurt so much?

“Yes, I’d like to have some orange juice, please, Harry,” she stammered and he left without a further glance at her.

Feeling quite shaky and miserable, Hermione turned towards Ginny instead, hoping to find some reassurance in her friend’s presence. “Hi Gin,” she smiled. “I messed it up about the game, I think. Good that Ron and Harry had at least Lavender and you the rely on.”

The younger girl flinched, startled. “What!? Ohh Hermione, it’s you!” she laughed a little shrilly. “Yes, yes I em – they did.”

“Oh hell, he’s really mad, isn’t he?” Hermione asked, nodding in Harry’s direction as she watched him at the buffet.

Ginny cast her a careful side-glance. “Well yes, he was. Kind of … yes …”

Hermione frowned, but hardly had time to wonder about Ginny’s strange reaction as Parvati seemed to have suddenly decided to join her friend Lavender for a word and _‘casually’_ dragged Hermione into their conversation.

“Oh, Hermione,” she twittered, “We all missed you at the game today! It’s a pity you didn’t see Harry play. He caught the Snitch after barely a few minutes.”

“Oh, I know he’s capable of that,” Hermione smiled back at the other girl, who completely missed the dripping sarcasm in her words.

“What have you been doing? We were kind of worried, when we didn’t see you all day? Are you quite all right? You don’t look too well?” she stated, nibbling on a roasted chicken wing at the sight of which Hermione’s stomach revolted once again. 

“Oh, emm – yes –” she muttered, nervously. “I guess I might have caught a cold or such.”

Parvati raised her brows at that. “Oh you should try Madam Pomfrey’s Pepper Up Potion then. I once caught a cold after sneaking out to erm – a date,” she giggled, “and it got me well in no time!”

Hermione forced herself to smile at her Housemate. “Yes, I think I’ll do that, Parvati, thanks for the advice.”

She suppressed a sigh. It was going to become a long evening.

A few minutes later, Harry returned with their drinks and Hermione was glad to have her glass to hold in her hand, although she realised that the orange juice might not be the best choice as it burned in her throat like it had in the morning.

She suddenly remembered that she had not eaten all day, except for that piece of toast at breakfast. Maybe that was why she felt so weak and shaky. But even now, she did not feel up to eating. Nonetheless she decided to at least try to force something down.

She followed the eager discussion about the day’s events for a while, but felt left out for some reason. Harry was hardly even looking at her and laughed with Ron, Lavender and Ginny, who each held a glass of sparkling wine in their hands. The older students had smuggled a few bottles into the school from a Hogsmeade trip without the teachers notice. Feeling so very out of place, Hermione strode over towards the buffet, still not sure if she should trust her tricky stomach with something to eat. Finally she stuck to some green salad and a piece of baguette.

When she turned back towards the room, she froze on the spot.

In the meantime, the others had obviously finished rehashing the highlights of the game and had moved towards the dance floor instead.

Ron was dancing with Lavender, of course, and Harry was whirling Ginny around, both of them laughing gaily.

Sadly Hermione watched them for a while, trying her best to hide her confusion and pain behind a neutral expression. Once again she considered leaving, but once again, she fought the urge to hide out in her quarters.

Pretending to enjoy herself, she sipped on her orange juice and tried her best to engage herself in a conversation with Neville, who seemed to be equally lost.

About an hour later, she felt two arms encircling her from behind. “Hey Hermione, why have you been hiding out all evening? You disappeared without a further word while we others were dancing.”

“H-harry?!” Hermione gasped with surprise, but could not help the happy little laugh that escaped her throat.

“I missed you today,” he muttered in her ear and she felt a shiver of warmth as his breath tickled her neck. So he had finally decided to turn his attention back towards her then. 

“I’m sorry, Neville,” he told their fellow student, “But I have to steal Hermione away from you.”

“Oh, sure Harry that’s no problem at all!” Hermione heard Neville reassure him in his usual shaky kind of voice.

Normally, Hermione would have felt bad for Neville to be left out like that, but right now she was much too happy to worry about anything.

Finally the evening seemed to improve. Finally Harry had decided to drop his childish grudge and ‘ _remembered_ ’ his girlfriend again.

And while Hermione would have been angry at him for his earlier behaviour, she felt quite guilty about her own failures today and dismissed every thought of annoyance that might occur to her.

Nonetheless Harry seemed a little awkward around her and Hermione did not really know how to start a casual, light-hearted conversation either. In the end Harry just took her hand and dragged her into the direction of the dance floor. “Come,” he murmured as he led her towards an empty space amongst the others.

Hermione could not tell for sure of course, but she could have sworn that their fellow students did it on purpose as the next song was a slow, cuddlesome ballad. Fields of Gold by Sting.

Hermione recognised it immediately. She was not too happy about it, though.

Not that she had not liked to cuddle against Harry under different circumstances, but this was just awkward. Too many people were watching their every movement and Hermione was almost positive that most of their fellow students had noticed or sensed the earlier trouble between them. This felt just odd – wrong even, and it certainly did not help much that she still had a special vision in her mind. The vision of Harry whirling Ginny around. Even if he had just done that to get back at her, it still stung.

Obviously Harry had not expected this slow dance either as he held himself up quite tensely, not pulling her close. A little awkwardly, Hermione leaned her head against the side of Harry’s and peered over his shoulder. She had been right. Quite a lot people were looking at them.

Distantly, she grew aware of the fact that Ginny did not continue to dance, but leaned back against one of the sofas, and watched them with an odd expression on her face.

Hermione could not get rid of the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Closing her eyes, she did her best to block her surroundings from her mind. For a while, she just danced and tried to get used to Harry’s closeness. It was not easy, though.

When the music subsided and she finally opened her eyes again, she noted that Ginny was gone. The place by the couch where she had leaned before was empty, and Hermione could not spot her anywhere else in the common room either.

Slightly disappointed, she realised that her friend must have gone to bed. She certainly could have let her know instead of merely leaving while Hermione danced.

Around eleven o’ clock Professor McGonagall appeared in the portrait hole and told them that it was time for the younger students to go to bed.

A Silencing Spell was cast at the common room, so that the remaining students could continue their party without disturbing the others.

Later, when the common room had emptied except for a bunch of six and seventh year students, Hermione found herself seated on one of the couches by the fireplace, Harry’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Once again, the game was discussed, as the remaining students were on the team and close friends as well, but this time Hermione actually felt part of the group.

Maybe it was just because she now felt that she had most of Harry’s attention to herself. His hand was absentmindedly playing with her hair and he kissed or nibbled her ear and neck every now and then.

In contrast to her, he’d had some drinks. He was not drunk, but definitely relaxed and in a light-hearted kind of mood.

One after another the other couples left and finally it was just them and Ron and Lavender, who sat in front of the flickering fireplace. Long ago someone had extinguished the candles and now the soft glow of the fire was the only source of light.

With a smile, Hermione snuggled her face into the crook of Harry’s neck and leaned closer to him – relieved that they had finally overcome their dispute.

She hardly noticed when Ron and Lavender prepared to leave. Only when they wished them a _‘pleasurable_ ’ night, did Hermione realise that she and Harry were all alone in the common room. She could not say she was sorry about that, though. Happily she sank into Harry’s embrace and kissed him back with longing. “I’m so glad we made up again,” she whispered affectionately as she brushed a few strands of his messy black hair off his forehead. “I was so sad that you were mad at me earlier.”

“Oh, Hermione,” he moaned into her ear. “I’ve missed you so much…I … I’m so glad you’re here with me right now –” he kissed her again, more fiercely this time, “… and I’d hoped …” He fumbled with the pocket of his trousers and held up a condom wrapper.

“Oh Harry …” Hermione could not suppress a laugh at that and hugged him more tightly.

In fact she felt quite exhausted after the long evening with all its dancing and emotional stress, but she was so happy that things seemed to have cleared up again with Harry that she did not want to bring up another discussion about this tricky topic right now.

She had decided to make her earlier behaviour up to him, hadn’t she? And she was really very happy at the moment – euphoric to put it mildly. So she just kissed him back and sank down into the scarlet velvet pillows of the couch by the fireplace as Harry started to hurriedly undo her robes.

And shortly after Harry caught the ‘Snitch’ for the second time that day.

OO

The following afternoon, Hermione was on her way back from the library. She planned to just take a break for a few minutes, before she finished her essays.

She felt dead out exhausted after her long night and since the letters on the parchment seemed to have blurred in front of her eyes several times, she had decided to quit her studies for the rest of the afternoon.

A strange noise caught her attention. It came from somewhere to her left a few meters ahead, where the stairs began. Even though she continued walking, she automatically slowed down when she turned her head into the direction of the noise.

Hermione really did not intend to spy on anyone, but she caught a glimpse of a dark figure, or rather two persons, only partly hidden by one of the statues. Ragged, muffled panting was to be heard, and the rustling of clothes. For all it looked like, she had walked in on some couple, who were having it off leaning against the wall beneath the stairs.

Not meaning to stare at them, Hermione looked away and started to quicken her steps again. With an exasperated sigh she rolled her eyes. Was the whole castle just as mad as …

“Harry –” she heard a female voice gasp, “Oh yesss, Har-ry!” – A very familiar voice –

Immediately, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and stared wide-eyed into the shadowy corner.

She had to clasp a hand over her mouth so as not to cry with agony at what she saw.

In the nook behind one of the statues, her boyfriend was grinding his hips into those of a girl, whose slender, white legs that were wrapped around his hips, were covered in freckles. 

They were both still clad in their robes, but it was more than obvious what they were doing. Too numb to even cry Hermione backed away, shaking her head in silent denial. All she wanted to do right now was to return to her rooms as quick as possible.

She did not notice the odd, worried looks some passing students gave their Head Girl, who seemed to be completely oblivious to her surroundings and was nearly as pale as one of the ghosts.

In fact she felt as if caught in a haze. This could not be true, could it? She had not just caught Harry cheating on her and – with Ginny of all people – her friend, whom she had trusted –

It could not be true, could it?!  All this felt much too horrible to be anything else but a nightmare.

The pain that clung to her heart at those thoughts, seemed to increase with every step she took. It seemed to rip through her in waves and it was growing more and more real and intense, the more she realised it was indeed the truth.

Nonetheless she continued to slowly walk along the corridors. Voices and sounds around seemed to come from afar, not really getting through to her.

But she had barely reached the fourth floor and rounded the corner to the corridor with her quarters, when her stomach started to heave and she realised with shock that she was going to be – really – sick this time.

To match all her bad luck, she almost ran into Malfoy, who had just stepped out of his rooms. He said something to her, but she did not even listen. In a rushed, desperate movement she hastened past him without a further look, but she could not run as quick as she would have wanted to because of her worsening dizziness and the blur of dark spots dancing in front of her eyes.

“Why hello, Mudblood! Watch where you’re going!” she heard him snarl as she pushed him out of her way.

At his outburst the door to his rooms sprang open with a click, but Hermione did not even stop to wonder about that. The last thing she needed was to be sick in front of Draco freaking Malfoy.

“Snitch!” she gasped and stormed into the safety of her quarters, slamming the door shut behind her. 

OO

She awoke at the creaking of the door. The room was almost completely dark, she noted as she sat up. Dark and cold. The fire in the hearth had died away, while she had slept.

She was not in her bed, but rather curled up on the couch in her living room and she was still wearing her robes. For a moment she had to pause to sort out her thoughts.

Then the memory came back to her with full force. Right, she had cried herself to sleep on the sofa – after she had come out of the bathroom – after she had been violently sick – at the memory of…

“What the heck – Have you been sleeping all afternoon?! I thought you had other things to do?!” a familiar voice cut through the darkness.

**A/N:** Thanks for all the nice feedback. It’s so good to know that you like the story. I can hardly wait to write the Draco/Hermione-falling-in-love part, but I need about two more chapters to get there I suppose. But once it starts, it will be thoroughly, I promise.

It can’t possibly get any worse for Hermione, can it? I could imagine she is even more hurt by Ginny’s betrayal than by Harry cheating on her – as bad as that is – especially after Ginny pretended to care so much for Hermione’s worries. It must be horrible to find your supposedly best friend doing such a thing to you and turn the knowledge of your weaknesses to her own advantage.

But don’t worry too much about her. Draco is waiting just around the corner, so to speak, to put her life back in order – and his own upside down in the process – he just doesn’t know yet. 

Smiles, Serpentina


	6. Just a filthy Mudblood, right?

“Malfoy!” Hermione gasped, startled.

Frantically she started to search for her wand. If she was not much mistaken, she had placed it on the table before she fell asleep. Why the heck couldn’t she find it? Maybe Malfoy had taken it away, she wondered. But why? What did he want with her? 

Right then her trembling fingertips palpated the hilt of her wand, but her movements were so rushed that the slim piece of wood slipped right through her fingers and clattered to the floor.

When she heard the rusting of clothes, Hermione realised that Malfoy had snatched his own wand out. Instantly she shrunk away, expecting a curse, but he merely pointed it at the sconces above her head. “Incendio,” Malfoy muttered and she could literally ‘ _hear’_ him sneer.

The very next second the room was filled by light as several candles sprang to action.

So did Hermione, but immediately regretted the sudden movement as her head started spinning again. “What are you doing here?!” she gasped.

With a mixture of fright and confusion she looked up at him. For all she could tell, he enjoyed this situation immensely. Tilting his head aside, he let his eyes wander across her and took in every detail of her ruffled clothing and untidy hair.

Hermione started to feel utmost nervous under his gaze. She scanned the floor for her wand, but could not spot it. It must have rolled under the table, she supposed.

Ignoring the funny feeling in her head, she bent down to look for the wand, but before she had a chance to grab, or even spot it, Malfoy had crossed the short distance from the door to her couch and had keeled down to pick it up in her place.

Thoughtfully, he turned it in his hands. “Why that’s a nice wand,” he stated. “I wouldn’t let it lay around like this, if I were you. Just imagine, how easily it could get into the – wrong hands!”

With a smug grin, he placed it back onto the table – out of her reach. “It can become – extremely – unpleasant, if one isn’t able to reach ones wand. Don’t you agree with that?”

At her nervous struggling to get up, he grabbed her shoulders to keep her in place and Hermione felt immediately reminded of the encounter in the Aritmancy corridor. Only this was worse. She was trapped in a half sitting position on a sofa, with Malfoy leaning above her, his hands pressing her shoulders down, whenever she made an attempt to escape. They were all alone in a room, where no one was likely to interfere.  

“It can be dangerous even – especially for a Mudblood,” he added with sickening pleasure.

“Malfoy …” Hermione gasped, “…please, don’t do that…don’t ... hurt me..”   

His blunt look told her that he was taken aback at the thought and she clearly noted how his grey eyes widened in surprise. Maybe he really did not intent to –

“Do?” his voice cut through her frantic thoughts. “No Mudblood,” he suddenly sneered. “I already told you I’m not planning to ‘do’ you! Why are you constantly talking of these things? If I didn’t know better, I would think you wanted me to ‘do’ anything of that kind to you. Is that so, Granger?” he purred, bringing his face closer to hers so she was bound to stare into his eyes.

Hermione stamped down the frightened gasp in her throat and pressed back against the pillows to bring more space between them.

Malfoy, raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, purposely misunderstanding her movement. “Why hello, Granger, so impatient to get laid?! I know, Potter doesn’t satisfy you, but I didn’t expect you to be this desperate… Well, maybe, if you behave to my liking and beg me quite nicely, I might consider doing you a favour – someday…”

“That’s sick, Malfoy!” Hermione spat and doubled her efforts to break free. “I’d never – ever do that, even if you and I were the last two persons – alive!”

Se pushed harder against his upper arms, but he easily blocked her movements. “You’re too funny, Granger, honestly!” he sniggered, “How cruel of you – and how – original at that! I’m – _so_ – impressed.”

Sill smirking, he leaned back and allowed her to sit up again. “Well, Granger as interesting as this may be, it’s not what I’m here for, I’m afraid,” he told her with another sneer.

“The only one who will ‘do’ anything are you, my dear Mudblood. I volunteered to prepare a paper about Merlin for next Friday’s History of Magic class and I won’t dream of doing it myself.”

Before Hermione had any chance to respond, there was a noise from the entrance and Harry appeared in the doorway. His face’s expression changed from utter shock to disbelief and – fury.

“What the hell… Malfoy!” he yelled, “Get your bloody hands off my girlfriend!”

Hermione had to admit, that they had to give a strange impression with her half lying on the couch, her clothes untidy, her hair tousled from sleep and Malfoy kneeling beside her in a dim, candle lit room – halfway hovering above her to be precise. 

To her great relief, Malfoy removed his hands from her shoulders, got to his feet and turned to face Harry. “Oh, it’s The-Fastest-Boy-Who-Ever-Caught-The-Snitch,” he taunted.

With a glance over his shoulder he smirked at her. “Well... I don’t want to spoil your evening, Granger. Just don’t forget about our – bargain.”

“What bargain?” Harry frowned and turned to Hermione, his face mirroring his confusion. “What is he talking about?!”

“Ha, I bet you’d like to know, Potter,” Malfoy stated nonchalantly and left without any further explanation.

Harry just stared at her and Hermione did not know how to handle the situation.

Not only had she caught her boyfriend cheating on her with her best friend during the afternoon – no, now he appeared in mid of her rooms, referring to her as ‘ _his girlfriend_ ’ and fixed her with an accusing stare for finding Malfoy with her.

Okay, maybe that was a little odd, she had to admit that, but still – She simply could not bear this.

“I don’t want to see you!” she snapped. But as she briskly jumped up from the couch and turned away towards the window, another wave of dizziness captured her at the sudden movement. Furiously blinking her tears back, she folded her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against the edge of the desk. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry complained, stepping closer.

“Don’t tell me you have to do homework – again – I’ve just seen what your _‘homework’_ is about! So that’s what keeps you so busy recently!?”

He forced a bitter laugh. “No wonder you overslept the game yesterday. You’ve probably been busy studying, oh pardon, had I better said – studding – with Malfoy the whole night, right!? That’s disgusting Hermione, honestly! If I imagine that I came so we could have a cosy little sit in, or rather lay in by the fireplace. Like last night – but –  ” another harsh laugh emerged his lips, “… you’re probably ‘ _not in the mood’_ , right, Hermione?! Not that I was … after an revelation like that!”

Hermione could not belief this. The nerve of him!

“Oh so you’ve come to continue on where we stopped last night? And I thought you wanted to tell me something?” she rallied with a glare.

That comment obviously threw Harry off guard. He stopped dead in his tracks at pacing the floor and stared at her. “T-tell you something?” he repeated nervously, brushing a few strands of his messy hair out of his eyes. “No – but – You – should probably explain yourself to me Hermione!?” he shot back in return.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “How dare you play the innocent on me, Harry Potter?!” she whispered with hardly suppressed fury.

Her voice was quivering with rage now, but she could not help it. “I saw you – and Ginny!” she suddenly yelled at him.

All colour drained from his face at that. “You’ve – You’ve been spying on me?!” he stated thunderstruck.

“Spying?!” Hermione repeated angrily, “Oh that wasn’t necessary, your horny grunting was hard to miss!”

“Well, what did you expect?! You never played along, Hermione. I have my needs as well – and, unlike you, Ginny enjoys having sex!” Harry stated stubbornly.

“Oh bravo,” Hermione mocked, pacing the floor in front of the window now. Her arms wrapped around herself, she furiously bit the tears back. She would not cry in front of him. She simply would not. 

“Is that all you have to say?” she asked bitterly. “I can’t believe you could have the gall to just stroll in here and demand sex from me after cheating on me this very day! And with Ginny on top of it all!” she repeated heatedly, “Ginny – my so called best friend. Why her of all people, Harry?! How could you?! Do you have any idea what this means to me!?”

For a moment Harry chewed his lip, as if troubled by second thoughts, then he looked up, a determined gaze in his eyes. “Well, none of this would have happened if you’d come to the game,” he stated.

Hermione froze in the spot and narrowed her eyes at him. “What's that supposed to mean again?”

Harry took a step towards her and tightened his jaw. “What it means is that you finally got what was coming to you. That match yesterday was when I finally realised how much you have been cheating me of what I deserve from a girlfriend. Maybe if you’d managed to drag yourself to the game you might have had a chance to change my mind about you.”

He spat the words out with such venom that Hermione recoiled in shock. Stumbling a step backwards she stared at him, her eyes wide with confusion. “What – Harry, I don’t understand a thing of this,” she stammered. “What are you talking about? What happened after the game?”

“Oh, thank you so much for asking!  Finally, you’re taking an interest in me – Oh joy!” Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm, and he spoke with such force that he almost spat the words out.

“Unfortunately, you’re just a little too late. Or maybe I was the one who was too late. To think of how long I resisted...”  Harry shook his head. “I was a fool, obviously. To grant you so much consideration...” 

Hermione shook her head, numbly. 

“So. You want to know what happened? What should have happened months ago, Hermione.  Ginny, who has given up so much of herself to be there for me despite her hardship; Ginny, who has loved me unconditionally since the day I met her; Ginny, who is happy just because I am... Do I need to draw you a picture? I screwed her in the locker room after the game – under the running shower to be precise. No, make that… I made – _love_ – to her.”

This truly caught Hermione off guard. She had not expected this in the slightest. “You – you already did that – before?” she stammered thunderstruck.

“But – yesterday night – at the common room –” she trailed off, taking in the full truth. “You lied to me!” she whispered in a dull voice, pitching her eyes shut against the pain. “You both were there in the same room with me and pretended nothing had happened. You –”   

She suddenly threw her head back, her eyes flashing with anger as she looked at him. “So that’s why you fussed all about Ginny?” she concluded furiously, “That’s the reason, she left when we were dancing?!”

He did not respond to this, but the look in his eyes told her that she was right.

Trying to clear her confused thoughts, Hermione bowed her head to stare to the floor. “I just don’t see why – What did you approach me for, if you’d already had her?!” she whispered, fighting the urge to cry.

“Why did you do that? And why are you here, if she’s so precious to you?” she asked bitterly.

Harry looked at her appraisingly, and without a trace of compassion or remorse he said coldly, “Good point. I’m asking myself that very question right now.” 

His eyes became, if anything, harder – he took another advancing step towards her as he spoke. “I _loved_ you Hermione,” he whispered savagely. “A part of me probably still does, in spite of your deceitfulness. And I _want_ you. No matter that you have done nothing but reject me and lie to me, I’m still in your spell... And hell, I actually fancy the idea of taking Malfoy's leavings. There – you see what you still do to me!”

With that, he grabbed her hand and thrust it towards his crotch. Hermione was shocked to feel the throbbing erection pushing against his trousers, and she squirmed to get away.

“No Harry,” she hissed “you don’t love me – that’s not love! That’s mere possessiveness! You’re just pissed because you think I chose Malfoy over you that’s all! Now let –go – of me!” she demanded and tried to drag her hand out of his grip.

Her sleeves slid up her arms and revealed the bruises on her wrists, Malfoy’s hands had left as he had grabbed her on the Arithmancy corridor the other day. Harry stopped dead in mid movement, staring at the faint bluish marks. He then looked up to meet her eyes and forced an angry laugh.

“Well, from the looks of it I’m not mistaken there, am I, Hermione? And I guess letting you go would mean passing up the best sex I’ve ever had with you. If I’d known before you liked it rough, I’d have been happy to oblige. Is that how Malfoy uses to take you?”

In a rushed movement he whirred her around and urged her backwards, so that she was suddenly trapped between him and the desk. “Is it – _this_ – you wanted all the time, Hermione?” He roughly, pressed his knee between her legs and bucked his hips forward. “Do you want it like – _this_?”

Hermione froze in her struggling, when she felt his hands cupping her breasts, but quickly recovered from shock.

He was just doing that, because he was mad at her, she told herself, he just wanted to press a reaction from her – any reaction – he did not mean it as bad as it sounded to her ears and he certainly would not really –

But when he began to urge her down onto the desk and tried to roughly clap her lips with his, she doubled her efforts to break free. Repulsed, she leaned backwards and turned her head aside to avoid the contact, but froze once more as she felt her hips bucking up against his at that movement.

“There’s no _way_ I’d have sex with you now!” Hermione spat. “And what you’re implying is just sick! I never did anything like that!”

“That’s right, Hermione. Lie.” Harry taunted and looked down on her with an expression of disgust. 

“I’m not!” she wailed, “How can you believe I’d ever do such a thing? And with Malfoy of all people –”

Harry just stared at her for a couple of more seconds, then shoved her further onto the desk and stepped back. “You know, you sound so sincere, I could almost believe you.”

He straightened his rumpled clothes and said, “Well, it’s obvious that you show more loyalty to him than you ever did to me. Besides, it’s probably better this way. I want my relationship with Ginny to be something pure and beautiful. The last thing I want would be to sully her with the memory of you, when I make _love_ to her later this night.” 

Hermione could not believe the meanness of this. His every word stung. Furiously she blinked against the tears that started to water her eyes, but this time it was to no use.

Much to her discomfort, Harry seemed to have noticed that, too.

“Don’t try to make me change my mind, Hermione,” he told her. “It’s too late.”

“Is that so?” Hermione glowered, “A moment ago you tried to _screw_ me on this very desk! How this sudden change of mind?” she taunted acidly. 

He outstretched his chin stubbornly, gritting his teeth. “Well I came to make up my mind about you, yes. I came to –”

“Oh really?” Hermione cut in, her voice almost hysterically by now. “And how have I to take that? In the sense of ‘ _Oh let’s see if she’s more fun this time? Maybe I’ll keep her then’_? How noble of you…”

Angrily she threw her head back. “You just breaking up with me now, because I confronted you about your cheating.”

“Well, I can’t see the problem in this! I bet you’ll be glad that I won’t – bother – you with my approaches anymore. Isn’t that so!” Harry stated with a fake laugh. “More time to put up with – Malfoy – now. Or is it – _Draco_ – to you when you’re getting busy?”

“You – you _prick_ ,” Hermione cried, “You’re twisting everything the way to fit your purposes.  “If I hadn’t seen you today, you’d do us – _both_ – Ginny and me, without each others knowledge! Your not even honest with her. I bet she has no clue that you came to – _see_ – me this evening, has she?!”

Harry’s face flushed all red with anger and she could see the scar on his forehead throbbing.

“You’re hardly in any position to judge me – Hermione! Just go, continue to spread your legs for _Malfoy_! Don’t forget about your little – _bargain_ – ” he added furiously, before he stormed off, banging the door shut behind him.

Hermione just stared at the closed door for a couple of seconds, before she slowly let herself glide to the floor with her back against her desk. Now that she was alone again, she no longer needed to repress her sorrow. Hugging her knees tightly, she buried her face in the crook of her arm and cried.

**OO**

Draco still smiled to himself as he joined his Housemates for dinner. His eyes scanned the Gryffindor table, but he could not spot Granger’s bushy head anywhere. For all it looked like, she and Potter had had a little quarrel after he had left.

He had purposely made it sound as if this bargain was of more – _indecent_ – origin, leaving Potter in doubt what exactly he was talking about.

He had left it to Granger to explain the matter. Another little meanness to make her feel sorry for messing with him. He just could not believe that Potter was actually stupid enough to take his taunting remark about their bargain seriously. But then, knowing Potter, it was probably no surprise.

Right now he was quite excitedly talking to Weasley’s sister, who hung at his every word. It was so obvious that she still had not overcome her foolish crush on him.

Remembering the horrible Valentine she had sent Potter in her first year, Draco sniggered to himself.

This caused Pansy Parkinson at the opposite side of the table to look up. Her eyes lit with interest. “What are you laughing about, Draco?” she asked casually.

“Oh nothing of importance,” he responded nonchalantly, still fighting a grin.

She obviously mistook his subtle smile for a secret hint of interest and threw another glance from under her thick, dark lashes at him. “Oh really?” she asked, flashing him her most charming smile. “How is it, Draco? Do you have any plans for the evening yet? It’s been ages since we had the opportunity to really – _talk_.”

He was almost positive that she hinted to that night, when his family had been visiting hers during the summer. All evening she had been flirting with him and after some glasses of Summer Wine, she had offered him, he had finally ended up in her bed. He had been just drunk enough to loosen up and had been way too curious to turn her offer down. After all it had been a very delightful opportunity to experience the pleasures of sex. Not that he had let her know of the fact that she was ahead of him there. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. Yes, he was pretty much sure that she hinted to that occasion and to the days, or rather nights to follow.

He just was not sure what to make of her persistent approaches. He had no intention to continue on this. In fact he had not shared her bed once since they were back at Hogwarts. He had acted around her like he had done before the holidays and had just ignored her seductive gazes and casual little touches. He had really thought that his intentions towards her, or rather the lack thereof, had become clear by this. But for all it looked like she was simply too stubborn to take the hint.

He just did not know what she hoped to gain.

Pansy did not harbour any more feelings for him than he did for her. So far he was sure. They had both known from the beginning that it meant nothing, but mere sexual pleasure.  

And he had truly enjoyed their occasional encounters during the summer break.

In contrast to her, he had no desire to continue on them, though. In fact he had been quite pleased by the change of local conditions his new position as Head Boy brought along. That way it was more easy for him to get a room from her.

But he had not counted on Pansy there. For all it seemed she believed she had to double her efforts to seduce him now.

Just as he expected, she slid a little down in her seat and threw a meaningful look at him. Much to his surprise, he did not feel her foot wandering up his leg, though. Given her slightly subsided sitting position and her sly smile as she searched his face for any reaction, he was sure that she was playing the ‘foot-game’ once again.

It took him a few more seconds to realise that she had obviously missed her aim and he had to bit back a wave of laughter, when he looked at Goyle, who was sitting to his left. His friend’s expression was even more dazed than usual and he wore an airheaded grin on his face.  

Pansy, who’s gaze was still fixed on Draco’s face, did not notice her mistake.

Draco tried to keep a straight face, but simply could not resist. “Not today, Pansy. I’m already meeting Grabbe and Goyle, I’m afraid,” he told her with a look that did not leave much doubt that this was nothing but a polite way to refuse her offer. “If Goyle doesn’t have other plans for the evening, that is,” he added and got up from his seat.

At that Pansy’s eyes went almost as wide as those of a House Elf. With a startled movement she darted bolt upright in her seat again.

“Ummm, ugh no,” Goyle hurried to assure him, snapping out of it, “I don’t think so. I’ll come. Emm – yes.”         

This time Draco was really glad for his extending ability of self-control. Otherwise, he might have busted out with laughter at the baleful humour of the situation.  

OO

But when he arrived at the Mudblood’s rooms a few minutes later, his good mood was put to an end rather abruptly.

“What do you mean, by you haven’t my essay ready yet? Don’t say you’re trying to play that trick on me _again_. Even for a Mudblood that’s just too stupid. How can you think I would get fooled by that again?!” he glared at Granger, who looked all flustered and messed up.

He wondered if the Wonder-boy had got it on with her after he had left them alone. Even if Potter had appeared at the Great Hall less afterwards, the time should have been enough – at least as far as Potter was concerned.

Draco scanned her face and neck for possible signs of an earlier encounter, but could not spot any hickeys, nor were her lips reddened. So Potter probably had not kissed her. This was certainly odd, Draco supposed. Pansy had always liked to kiss him when they’d had it off. And he had to admit that it was rather enjoyable, even if he did not have feelings for her. It had been tend to add to his arousal. 

Given the thought that Potter and the Mudblood were a couple, it surprised him that they would not snog each other. He wondered if Potter was a bad kisser, who could not please her, or if Granger just did not like to be kissed, when having sex.

At that a frown of confusion and displeasure crossed his face. How did he come to think such things about her? It was not at all his concern what she liked, nor what Potter did with her. And he certainly should not muse over how, where, why, or when they did it. So where did those ideas come from? He quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts again.

In fact, Granger looked rather disturbed, he noted. Her hair was messed up and her face was flushed, so much was true, but this need not necessarily to be an effect of sex. It could just as well be that she had been excited about something. If he gave her a closer look, he even wondered, if she had been crying. In fact, her eyes were red-rimmed and rather puffy. So she’d more likely had a quarrel with Potter as he had supposed earlier.   

Well, this was hardly his business, either. Determinedly, he banned every further thought of Granger’s love-life form his mind and focused on the task at hand.

“I really expected you to have finished my essays, considering that I didn’t see you at the Great Hall earlier,” he sneered. “If you had nothing of importance to do, you’d done good to skip by at dinner, you know? I mean, I might be mistaken, but your precious Potter seemed to be in rather deep conversation with the Weasel – the female one, that is. I have to admit that that Weasel-hair looks quite appealing in her case – You’d better watch it. You wouldn’t want to risk him dump you for that little vixen, would you? Certainly, she’s just a Weasley, but she’s at least a Pureblood – after all.”

It had been a lame excuse for an insult, but he was still so caught up in his earlier thoughts that he could not come up with anything more original. He knew that he was babbling, his own words sounded kind of boring to himself and lacked their acid snide. Much too many words with way too few background to make a good insult. He did not really expect her to care about it. To his utter surprise though, her lower lip started trembling as soon as he had said this and after a few seconds she truly burst into tears.

Startled, Draco took a step backwards. He had no clue why him pressing the old Mudblood topic should cause her to cry all of a sudden. This was certainly odd – very odd.

“Heh,” he smirked, “I didn’t know you took you heritage to heart like that. Did you finally acknowledge that you don’t belong here?”

Much to his disappointment, she did not respond to this, but merely hid her eyes in her hand. There was no fun in pulling up a fight, if the addressee did not make the slightest attempt to defend themselves.

Still confused, Draco turned away from his sobbing opponent and left for his own quarters.  

**OO**

“Snap!” Crabbe called out and the card Draco had just been about to grab sprang up and tried to grab his finger.

“Heh Draco,” he grinned, “that’s the third time you loose! You’re truly acting a little odd this evening.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Draco agreed absentmindedly.

His thoughts stayed preoccupied with Granger’s odd behaviour. He wondered what might have happened between her and Potter after he had left.

Right now their conversation covered the sound of her crying, but before Crabbe and Goyle had arrived Draco had clearly noticed her sobbing.

He doubted that this was just about his earlier remark. He had called her a Mudblood, and other names countless times before and it was most unlikely that she was so upset about it. Could this possibly be about the quarrel he supposed her to have had with Potter, he wondered. He had even considered going back to ask her, but had dismissed the thought since he could not imagine that she would be pleased to see him. 

“This isn’t about what happened with Pansy, earlier, Draco, is it?” Goyle, who was seated in the opposite couch, asked and threw a worried glance at him. “Look, I er, didn’t meant to get in your way, I was just so taken by surprise and I er …”

A little taken aback, Draco snapped out of his thoughts. “What – No, no,” he hurried to assure him, “it’s not a problem.”

But Goyle did not seem convinced. “No, really, I know there’s something going on between you and her, and I didn’t mean to interfere, it’s just – that –”  he trailed off, obviously at a loss of words.

“It’s just that Gregory fancies her,” Crabbe fell in with a smug grin, which earned him a furious glance from his friend.

“Thank you so much, Vincent,” he growled.

Draco could not suppress a grin. “Indeed?” he asked. “I had no idea? But you needn’t worry, Goyle, whatever there was between Pansy and me during the holidays wasn’t at all serious and it’s long over anyway.”

“Really?” Goyle asked hopefully, “but Pansy –”

“Pansy hasn’t accepted that yet,” Crabbe finished in his place.

“Not quite,” Draco nodded. “But if Goyle here made a move at her, I would be the last to complain.”   

The happy grin that crossed his friend’s face at that news made him smile as well.

What a good way to rid himself of Pansy’s approaches and how funny to imagine that Goyle had a thing for her!

“Just ask her to Hogsmeade next time,” Crabbe suggested, “Right, Draco, he could try that?” But Goyle did not seem eager to discuss his plans with them. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered and hastily started to rearrange the cards for a new game.

All three of them fell silent for a moment and now the unmistakable sound of Granger’s weeping, became noticeable.

Crabbe looked up. “Heh, do you hear that? There’s someone crying,” he stated with a frown.

“That’s Granger,” Draco told him, nodding in the direction of her rooms. 

“The Mudblood?” Goyle asked with a frown, as he picked up his cards. “What up with her?”

“Rushed into a fight with the Wonder-boy as it seems,” Draco sneered and likewise reached for his cards.

“What about?”

He shrugged, casually. “What would I know? Who am I, her nanny?”

This was quitted with a crude snort from Goyle, whereas Crabbe still looked tentative.

“I don’t know, shouldn’t we umm – check on her? I mean um – maybe she needs help or something.”

Draco hesitated, but Goyle already answered in his place. “Are you nuts, Vincent? She’s just a stupid Mudblood. Right, Draco?” he asked, obviously eager to answer in his sense. 

“You say it, Goyle,” Draco sneered, “She’s nothing but a filthy Mudblood bitch and the only help she needs is to be shown the way out of Hogwarts.”

With a blank expression, he snatched out his wand and cast a Silencing Spell on the room that blocked out every further sound of her crying.

Nonetheless Draco was not at all comfortable with the situation. His words were not at all tend to convince himself and the nagging feeling of guilt, filled the back of his mind. It was not his fault at the latest that she had got into a fight with Potter after all. 

After that, Hermione Granger was no further mentioned by any of them. Their conversation moved towards other topics, like the next Hogsmeade trip and there like, but Draco was not entirely into it. He decided to do his homework himself – just to be sure – as he doubted that she would produce any useably text and did not want to risk another fiasco.

Therefore he called it a night after the next game and started on his Potions essay as soon as his friends had left.

Much later, when he prepared for bed, he took the Silencing Spell off and was startled to still hear her crying. Once again he considered to go and look what was wrong with her, but once again refused to give in to the idea.

He really could not be expected to comfort a blubbering Mudblood. And even if he were, he would not know how to deal with her. He would probably excite her even further. If he appeared at her rooms this late at night, she would probably just jump to some weird conclusions again. She seemed to be constantly worried he might intend to ravish her. Despite the trace of worry he felt, his lips curled into a smirk.

No, it was most likely much better to just let her calm down by herself.

Whit a sigh Draco renewed the Silencing Spell and extinguished the candle.

But the memory of her quivering lower lip and the look of her huge sad eyes, the moment before she had burst into tears, would not leave him alone for a long time that night.

OO

The next morning, she looked horrible. She was deathly pale and her eyes were red and puffy. Draco stared at her for a couple of seconds when they met outside their quarters. “What the hell is wrong with you, Mudblood?” he sneered. “You look disgusting with your nose all swollen and your eyes red and puffy as that.”

To his shock and annoyance, her eyes started watering again at that comment. 

“Stop blubbering you stupid cow,” he hissed “there’s no need to make it worse. Not that it could get much worse anyway ..” he added with a frown. “I highly recommend on fixing your appearance before you go down to breakfast.”

With that he left and turned to the flight of stairs that led down into the Entrance Hall.

Granger did not follow.

In fact she only showed up about twenty minutes later, when most students had finished their breakfast and the Great Hall started to already empty again. For all it looked like she had taken his advice to heart and had magically fixed her appearance. Her cheeks were no longer covered by red spots as the effect of crying, but looked rather pale, he noted. He could not see her eyes from the distance, but he suspected that she had worked on their rim-red expression as well.    

But even if she did not draw much attention to herself by her earlier flustered looks, it was quite odd for Hermione Granger to be this late for breakfast. Therefore Draco noted more than one pair of eyes following her as she slipped into the room and quietly slipped into a seat at the very end of the Gryffindor Table, far away from Potter, the Weasels and the rest of their lot, which was even more odd.

Maybe the quarrel he supposed her to have had with the Wonder-boy the evening before was more serious than he had thought. It was obvious that she avoided his presence. 

This behaviour was more than a little surprise to Draco and apparently to a lot of other students as well, because little whispers started to rise around the vast room.

Draco leaned back in his seat with a frown, watching her closely. She looked – disturbed – and – upset. As far as he could see it, she ate little and stared to her plate most of the time.

His eyes wandered to the opposite end of the Gryffindor Table, where Potter and his gang were seated.

Most of them were craning their necks at Granger, looks of surprise written about their faces. And quite a few of them seemed to ask Potter about this strange behaviour of his girlfriend, what he quitted with a shrug of his shoulders and some comment that cased most of them to stare at him with a mixture of shock and surprise. Beside him, the Weasley-girl threw a tentative glance at Granger’s direction, before she glanced up at Potter with an odd expression in her eyes.

Draco did not really know what to make of this. So he just placed his knife onto his plate and got up from his seat as did most of his fellow students and followed them out of the hall, his thoughts still centred at the odd observations he had made. He cast another glance back at Granger, but could only see the back of her bushy head.

He was determined to find out what all this was about.

OO

His curiosity was sated sooner than he had expected, though. It was the third lesson of the day and Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had just reached the stairs that led down to the Potions dungeon, when hurried footsteps echoed behind them.

Draco could tell who it was because of the nervous expression that crossed Goyle’s face, who had cast a look over his shoulder.

The dark-haired girl did not have any eyes for him, though. She grabbed Draco’s arm instead, so that he was forced to look at her. “Draco,” she exclaimed, her voice quivering from excitement, “You won’t believe what I’ve heard!”

“Pansy,” he smirked with amusement, raising one of his pale silvery-blond eyebrows at her, “I’m sure you’re dying to fill us in.”

“Too true,” she assured him, still clutching his arm.

She then flashed him and his two companions a triumphant smile. “Listen you three, Harry Potter has broken up with the Mudblood.”

At that, Draco stopped dead in his tracks. “That’s not true!” he stated, a look of surprise written all over his face.

“Yes, it’s too,” Pansy objected eagerly, “I just heard two Hufflepufs talking about it at the girls bathroom. He dumped her for Ginny.”

“That little fool, who set the Basilisk free in our second year. You know – Weasley’s sister,” she explained urgently as he still did not respond. “You know who?” she suddenly giggled at his startled flinch. “Oops, em, I mean. Do you know of whom I’m speaking?” another fit of giggles followed this question.

“Yes, yes, Pansy, I do,” Draco declared absentmindedly.

He had not expected that, but now the looks he had seen passing at breakfast made a lot of sense. As did Grangers weird reaction to his comment the day before. He had unknowingly hit the nail on its head there. No wonder she had burst into tears at that. Potter must have broken up with her just after Draco had left her quarters.

“Hey, that’s great news, Pansy,” Goyle beamed at her. “It’s about time that the nasty bitch gets what’s worth for her.”

“You say it,” she muttered, flashing him a little smile as well. But Draco noted her eyes nervously flickering over Goyle’s appearance, before she hastily looked away again. She was most obviously not comfortable around him after the previous evening’s unfortunate accident with her little ‘foot-game’.

So that’s what she cried about.” Crabbe suddenly stated.

“She did?” Pansy’s dark eyes settled back on Draco’s face, questionably.

He just nodded still a little dazed by the news, but quickly recovered and added with a smirk. “She cried her eyes out. We had to cast a Silencing Spell not to be bothered by her blubbering.”

At that Pansy’s eyes widened with surprise. “Ohh indeed?” she murmured “just wait till I tell the others.” With that she slipped into the Potions classroom, eager to spread the little addition to her news.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the nice feedback!

In this universe Harry didn’t handle his fame well and turned into a selfish, arrogant git, whereas Draco isn’t acting just on his father’s/houses opinion anymore and starts to question his own ways and decisions. Of course this is a slow process and won’t happen overnight. 

Ginny is a though case. She’s suffering from an immense emotional trauma after what happened to her in The Chamber and later at Hogsmeade. Besides that she almost blindly worships Harry and is even ready to sacrifice her friend to get him and the acknowledgement and possible even safety she supposes him to bring her. I don’t approve on her actions and I don’t like ‘my’ Ginny too much, but I can’t really despise her either.

And Hermione – she is confused, worried and deeply troubled. I think it’s no wonder that she lacks her usual spunkiness. Oh – and did I mention she is not feeling well?  

Hope you’ll read on. It won’t stay this depressing. Hell – NO!

Smiles, Serpentina


	7. The two-headed Dragon

When Hermione entered the Potions classroom, she stopped in the doorway and hesitated for a little moment to let her eyes wander across the still empty seats at the Gryffindor side. She drew in a deep breath and hurried past the row she’d shared with Harry and Ron in the previous years without a further look.

Since Snape had ordered her to work with Malfoy and they were most likely to brew another potion today, she could just as well sit with him from the beginning, couldn’t she?

Usually she had always waited until Snape told them to start working on their potion before she moved her things to the Slytherin side. For once she was glad about this change of working arrangements, though.

She would not have known what to do, had she been stuck sitting next to Harry. In comparison to that option, working with Malfoy was by far the better option.

He was already there. Leaning comfortably back in his seat, his long legs stretched beneath the table, he watched her crossing the room and gave her a calculative look when she took a seat beside him, but said nothing. One more thing, Hermione was grateful for. She could not have put up with his snide, taunting remarks right now.

To pass the time and cover up the uncomfortable silence between them she started to unpack her books and positioned her cauldron and working materials on the table in front of her. In her back she could hear the Slytherin girls giggling.

“Yes, I’m telling you,” Pansy Parkinson whispered to Millicent Bulstrode, loud enough for her to hear, “Potter dumped her for the little Weasel and Granger cried her eyes out about it last night. Draco just told me that he had to cast a Silencing Spell on his rooms. Isn’t that so, Draco?” she twittered.

Hermione caught her breath. How mean of him to spread those information. But then, this was Malfoy, she certainly should not expect any kindness, or consideration from him. 

All the more his next words were a surprise to her.

“Shut up, Pansy,” he just muttered instead of an answer, “Snape’s coming.”

Surprised, Hermione turned her head to look at him. His voice had been cool and unaffected as ever, but when her eyes met with his, she almost got the impression that he was kind of uncomfortable with the situation.

For a moment they just stared at each other, but before either of them could make any comment on the matter, Snape’s snide voice caused them to focus their attention to the front of the classroom.

“Today we will brew Cauterising Serum, a potion to close every tiniest bleeding vessel if applied to a wound. This potion is an alternative to a Healing Spell and can be used in situations where no wand is at hand. Unfortunately, it is not as potent as the spell and causes the wound to heal with a scar. For that reason, we will not test this potion on any of us, but prove its effectivity with an indicator test-stripe. I must ask you to handle today’s preparations with utmost care since this potion’s main ingredient, the rootstock of the Wild Mandrake, also known as Mayapple, is poisonous. Miss Brown, please collect the essays I assigned for homework. Everyone else start to copy down the list of instructions and ingredients from the board.”

That was the moment Hermione had feared. After the turbulent events of the previous evening she just had not been able to do her preparation anymore.

She had never, ever appeared to any class without her homework before, but she could very well imagine that Snape’s reaction would not be a pleasant one.

Shortly after Malfoy placed his roll of parchment on top of the others, but Hermione simply shook her head at the brown-haired girl in front of their desk. “I don’t have my essay, Lavender, I’m afraid.”

**OO**

It took Draco a moment to realise what had just happened.

He had never thought he would see the day when Granger did not have her homework. How wise of him not to rely on her as far as his essay was concerned. 

He cast a careful side glance in her direction and noticed the stressed look on her face.

She was pale, he noted. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her hand that led the quill, was quivering. Although she probably tried her best to focus on copying the instructions from the blackboard she had to correct or strike-through her notes three times as she had skipped a line, or copied a word twice. She certainly was a mess.

For very strange reasons, though, he did not feel to pick on her.

Quietly he turned to the board again and continued to copy the recipe down.

Meanwhile Brown had finished her task and just returned to her seat after she had placed the parchments on Snape’s desk.

Draco noticed the Professor’s expression darkening as he realised there was one paper missing. Snape shortly glanced at the names on top of the parchments, then looked their direction and Draco congratulated himself once again on his decision to do his essay himself the previous evening.

He could very well do without the lecture Granger was probably in for. He was proven right by Snape’s next words.

“Where’s your essay, Miss Granger?” he asked snidely. “If I’m not much mistaken, I told you to hand it in.”

In the seat beside Draco, Granger cleared her throat. She seemed to be nervously aware of the fact that every pair of eyes in the room was resting on her. “I don’t have it, Professor,” she stated. 

Shocked silence settled over the class.

“Indeed?” Snape asked, his voice dangerously soft, “And may I ask why, Miss Granger?”

“I em, felt not well,” she coughed, “and I just didn’t manage, Sir. I’m sorry. I’ll hand it in of course,” she added quite helplessly.

Draco could tell from the way Snape’s upper lip curled that he was more than a little annoyed by this.

“Yes that is correct, you will. Do you have an attest from Madam Pomfrey?” the Professor asked, but Granger merely shook her head. “I’m afraid, no,” she muttered.

With a soft rustling of his robes, Snape rose from behind his desk and strode towards them. “Well, I really hope that you will – _manage_ – to serve detention and hand in your missing assignment by eight o’clock tonight then, as I will not tolerate such behaviour. Do not expect me to make any allowances to your Head Girl status, Miss Granger. Besides –” he slowly seized her appearance, his dark eyes glittering, “it’s twenty points off Gryffindor for your failure.”

**OO**  

Behind her Hermione could hear sniggering and mumbling pass amongst the Slytherins, while her own Housemates groaned at the loss of points. Ron’s excited voice could be heard over the rest of them.

“I don’t – believe – it! Harry – did you just hear that? She doesn’t have her homework. Wicked!”

She could not catch Harry’s response to this, but was uncomfortably reminded of his presence in the classroom, nonetheless. This was only tend to make her feel worse about the situation. To be lectured like this in front of _him_ was embarrassing.

She did not blame Ron for his startled reaction, after all the times she had argued with him about the importance of schoolwork. She would have betted that no one had expected her to come unprepared to class – ever. Nor had she.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Hermione started to rearrange her neatly placed working materials in front of her, trying her best not to cry. It was an odd thing, how easily she felt the need to cry these days. 

A sudden voice made her snap out of her brooding.

“I’ll go and get our ingredients, Granger. You lit the cauldron in the meantime,” Malfoy told her and got up from his seat.

Hermione stared after him, more than a little surprised by the fact that he of all people had not given as much as a comment about the matter. Not a single nasty remark about what should be a field day for him.

A few minutes later he returned and they each started working on their task in silence. The soft bubbling of the cauldron between them was the only noise and Hermione soon lost herself in her thoughts again, while she mechanically cut the Mayapple rootstock into bits.

She was not at all pleased with herself today. She was acting week and spineless, when she allowed Harry’s actions to control her and affect her work. She should have just moved towards her usual seat, in the Great Hall as well as here in the Potions classroom, but she hadn’t had the guts to do that.

It was frustrating that Harry probably felt superior to her now. But she would show him, she would –

“Are the Mayapple roots ready, Granger? Granger?!”

Once again, Malfoy’s voice made her snap out of her brooding.

“Heh, what did you do to those?!” he frowned and examined the unequally shaped, much too small pieces on the slice-board in front of her. 

Hermione felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she realised her mistake. She had been so wrapped up in her anger that she had not realised that she had overdone her job.

To her great relief Malfoy did not pick on her for this either.

“Well, lets hope they will do,” he merely stated and began to carefully arrange the pieces in approximately equal amounts. “You watch the fire,” he told her, “I’ll do this myself.”

For a while, nothing at all happened, but Hermione noted that they were behind most of the others, since Malfoy had to do all the work alone if she did not focus on anything but to regulate the heat. This was ridiculous, she decided. She could just as well participate in powdering the dried clover.

But when she reached across the table, her hand accidentally collided with Malfoy’s elbow, just as he lifted his arm to place another bit of Mayapple root into the cauldron.

“For heavens sake, Granger,” what’s it now?!” he snapped angrily.

“I .. I just wanted … the clover,” she stammered, drawing her hand back in shock.

Malfoy just stared at her. “Watch the fire!” he suddenly called.

“Yes, yes, you already told me,” Hermione complained angrily, “no need to yell at me, Malfoy.”

“No, I mean…” he began and reached out to snatch her hand away from the cauldron. A sudden pain made her aware that she had moved her hand too close to the fire. Immediately she drew it back, but the damage was done. The hem of her sleeve had already caught fire.

For a moment, she was too shocked to react and just stared wide-eyed at the flickering flames. It was Malfoy, who extinguished the fire at the hem of her sleeve.

“Honestly, Granger, even working with Crabbe, or Goyle is more efficient than putting up with you!” he hissed, “If you don’t get a grip of yourself you’re going to spoil our potion!”

Once again they stared at each other.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape’s voice echoed from across the classroom. Naturally, he and most of the students had caught notice of the accident. 

“Granger burned herself at the cauldron, Sir,” Malfoy called, still fixing her gaze.

This caused Snape to appear at their table. He ordered her to roll up her scorched sleeve and examined her skin.

A nasty ring of blisters was already forming around the wrist. The skin was reddened and hurt like hell.

“That needs to be fixed,” the Professor commented. “Move over to the hospital wing, Miss Granger, but remember to be back for detention this evening and bring your assignment along. Five more points will be taken from Gryffindor for your carelessness. You may leave now.”

**OO**

In the evening Draco could no longer deny that he was indeed slightly worried about Granger.

He had not seen her since the potions accident as they hadn’t had any other classes together that day and she had once again skipped dinner.

During the day he had found his thoughts wandering off towards her several times and he really wondered if she was all right.

There was no way he would let anyone know of that, though.

It was around ten o’clock, when he finally decided to skip her a short visit. Half an hour ago he had heard her returning from detention and if he was not much mistaken she would be probably working on his next day’s Transfigurations assignment now. That would be the perfect reason to fake.

When he stepped into her rooms, he found her bowed over her working desk and was pleased to see that – for a change – she was not crying.

Maybe - if he was lucky - it would stay that way, but he didn’t set his hopes high.

At his entry, she whirled around and her eyes fixed on his – startled. “Malfoy!” she gasped and he could not help, but sneer. “That’s my name, yes,” he drawled taking a seat on one of the couches on his own accord.

“What do you want?” she frowned and then turned back to her essay. “Damn,” she cursed as the ink had left a large spot on the parchment.

Her angered expression caused Draco to snigger once again. He decided to change his strategy. “Come over here, Granger,” he commanded calmly. “We need to discuss the preparations for the Halloween Feast.”

“Now?!” she squealed, but rose from her chair nonetheless and tentatively took a seat on the opposite couch. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, it’s almost mid October and we still need to come up with a suggestion for the decorations and program. There’s a staff meeting next week and we’re supposed to participate, did you forget about that?”

Granger suddenly looked as if she had been hit across the head with a Troll’s club. Her cheeks grew if possible, even whiter and the look in her eyes took a truly haunted note. “What did you just say?” she breathed.

He frowned at her, but repeated, “I said, there was a staff meeting next week and that –”

But Granger merely shook her head in an unwilling gesture. “Before that,” she muttered and now he really did not know what to make of her odd behaviour.

“Never mind. Listen, Malfoy,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’re right, we really need to work this out, but I have to continue on working now. I’m only half way through that Transfiguration essay of yours and I haven’t even started on mine.”

Tilting his head aside, Draco cast her a closer look. She looked dead out exhausted and strained. A pang of guilt rose in him at that. She really had a hard time and he had to admit that he took a great part in adding to her trouble. Maybe he should let her off the hook for a while.

“No,” he stated calmly, “you should go to bed, or you’ll cause another disaster tomorrow. I’m  already done with my homework.”

“I couldn’t know if you’d be able to manage after all. I mean with serving detention and the assignment you had to hand in and such,” he quickly added at her confused stare.

“Oh, that’s good,” she exhaled with relief, “I can focus on my own stuff then.”  

“No,” Draco objected on an impulse.

“You had better slept it out and got a grip on yourself again. It doesn’t pass for the Head Girl to lose her House so many points. I’ll hand you a copy of mine in the morning. There’s a spell with which you can easily duplicate a text onto an empty parchment. But Granger – don’t you ever expect me to do that again.”

She stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. “Thank you, Malfoy,” she muttered.

**OO**

As soon as Malfoy had left her rooms, Hermione returned to her working desk. Her gaze fell onto the Transfigurations assignment and on the big, ugly ink spot that muddled the half-finished text. She did not feel at all up to start it over again. But even, if she would clear it by the help of a spell, she would have to work another half an hour at the least to finish it.

Briefly she wondered if she could trust Malfoy’s offer to duplicate his preparation for her and decided to give it a try. He had indeed sounded serious and she truly had other things on her mind right now.

Determined, she crumpled the spoiled parchment and picked up her calendar instead. Malfoy’s earlier comment had brought a worrisome thought to her mind. Nervously, she flicked the pages back.

 

**A/N:** Thanks for reading!

The idea to duplicate a parchment by the help of a spell belongs to _SilentG_.Thanks Gnat for letting me borrow that thought!

About the potion: It’s my creation, but the rootstock of Mayapple, or Wild Mandrake is really said to be poisonous. I picked this information from a book about plants, when looking up some herbs for the next chapter.

Smiles, Serpentina 

 


	8. The Wee-Wee Tea

She had been right.

The last entry she searched for was dated on August 16’th. She flicked the pages back, or rather forward, to mid September to see if she had possibly skipped the right note, but there was none. Maybe she just had not marked the day, but now that she thought of it, she did not remember having her period.

She frowned with concern. Well, it was not at all odd if she missed it once, with all the stress she had been through recently, was it?

Determined not to let this bother her any further, she clapped the little book shut and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

As Malfoy had said earlier, it was almost mid October.

That meant she just had to wait a few more days until her next period would be due. If she missed it again – then – she would start to worry, but not now. She had always been careful after all. She had never played along, when Harry had tried to get it on with her without a rubber. A fact she was entirely thankful for now. She would have been worried sick otherwise – She froze in mid movement and some of her toothpaste dropped to the floor.

_‘Sick – hadn’t she just thrown up the day before?’_

_‘Well yes,’_ she told herself, continuing to brush her teeth with determined, regular movements, _‘but that had been in the – afternoon – Wasn’t one supposed to get sick in the mornings?’_

And she had been so excited and repulsed by what she had seen. It meant nothing. She was just overreacting, because she was so very afraid of the idea.  

But the nagging feeling of doubt remained and made her wonder if something might have gone wrong, nonetheless. Even a rubber not entirely safe after all. There might have been a minuscule hole she did not notice… And sometimes they had been in a great hurry to roll up the rubber. What if they had damaged one in the process?

‘ _Stop that,’_ she told herself, _‘you’re driving yourself insane, if you keep thinking like this!’_

A few minutes later, Hermione curled into a tight ball beneath her covers.

**OO**

In the morning, Draco handed her the promised copy of his Transfigurations essay.

“Here Granger, but only read it aloud in class if McGonagall asks you to. There’s no need to alert the old hag.” 

He noticed her flinch at the insult to her Head of House. Nonetheless, she did not make any effort to defend her, but forced her lips to a tentative smile instead. “Thank you Malfoy,” she muttered, fingering with the log of her bag. Without a further glance at him, she slipped the parchment between the others and started to walk down the corridor.

Like the evening before the words caused a funny feeling to rise in him – a pleasant, unfamiliar feeling.

Thoughtfully, Draco watched her walking towards the stairs and suddenly came to a decision. With a few elongated strides he caught up on her.

“Ganger!” he called and she stopped. “Wait! There’s something else I wanted to tell you.”

At her astounded look he hastily explained, “You see, you don’t have to do my homework anymore. I’d be too worried about my grades if you did. And maybe, well – maybe you had better given the correct answers in class for a while – in case you know, that is.”

**OO**

When she entered the Great Hall that morning, Hermione held her head up high, determined not to let anyone see how much Harry’s and Ginny’s betrayal had hurt her - no matter how bad she felt inside.

At fist everything went quite well. She took a seat close to the place where she usually sat. Not directly next to Harry, or Ginny of course. She did not even glance their direction. Even Ron appeared a much too close choice – but a seat between Seamus and Neville seemed just fine.

Ignoring the whispering and curious stares that followed her at her entry, she picked up a roll, poured herself a cup of Earl Grey Tea and reached for the honey.

She was Head Girl and had a reputation to keep up after all.

Oh hell, she almost sounded like Malfoy, she suddenly realised. But it was true. She could not expect anyone to acknowledge her position and pay her respect, if she carried her personal misery out in the open and hid somewhere at the far end of the table.

Nonetheless this was more difficult than she had expected. Everyone seemed to be afraid to say the wrong thing in her presence and the conversation around her slowed noticeably down.

“Hey Hermione, how is your hand?” Neville asked and she flashed him a grateful smile. Neville seemed to be always there, when one felt lost and hesitant. He might be a quite awkward and clumsy person, but he truly was a dear.

“Thanks Neville, it’s perfectly fine again,” she responded. “Madam Pomfrey fixed the blisters in no time.”

“Yes, she’s pretty good with burning accidents,” Seamus injected with a grin. “I’m speaking out of experience there.”

This caused Dean and a few other Gryffindors to tease him about his unfortunate habit to blow up things with a messed up spell and the atmosphere lightened up a bit.

So far, Hermione was quite pleased with how she handled the situation. But just when she started to relax slightly, a bunch of noise and laughter caused her to turn her head towards a group of students to her left.

The gasp caught in her throat. At the opposite side of the table, just a few seats away, her erstwhile boyfriend kissed Ginny, whose arms were tightly wound around his neck.

“Ugh,” Ron groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “Just tell me when they’re done, ya!?”

This caused a new wave of laughter to erupt around them and the couple let go of each other, both wearing broad grins on their faces. Harry responded something, Hermione could not understand, but Ron made a threatening gesture towards him after that, which was followed by another bunch of laughter.  

Hermione felt as if she had been slapped. It was one thing to know that they were together, but it was a completely different matter to watch them snog in front of the whole school. 

She tried her best to fight the tightness that suddenly filled her throat, until an intense wave of sickness forced her to leave the Great Hall in a hurry.

OO

When she splashed her face at the girls’ bathroom a few minutes later, Hermione was still trembling.

This was a nightmare.

She had not expected it to hurt so badly to see the two of them like that. And to make it all worse, she had just thrown up again.

Fearfully, she glanced at her ghostly pale reflection in the mirror. Her bloodshot eyes were staring back at her, wide and frightened.

Furiously, Hermione started to rub the tears away. She was not pregnant. She simply could not be. She would not _bear_ it if she were!

_‘Mmm – but it very well looks like it, doesn’t it?’_ a nasty little voice in the back of her head called. _‘It’s not that unlikely. You – could – be knocked up. Ohh yes, you could!’_

A wave of panic captured her at that thought.

What would everyone say? The other students? The teachers? Her parents?

Would she have to turn in her Head Girl badge?

In a situation other than this, she might have laughed at the absurdity of that thought. A comment Ron had made in their first year echoed through her mind.

_‘She – needs – to sort out her priories!’_ She had heard his remark after she had walked away of him and –

And Harry – she could not tell him – not now… Not after the way he had acted when he had broken up with her…

_‘Hah – isn’t it funny that, in a way, he left you because you wanted so frantically to prevent just – this – to happen?!’_ she mentally argued with herself. _‘If you had just let him have his way with you every now an then – that night at the Burrow for example – if you hadn’t been so damn worried and sensible, but more spontaneous and carefree, you might still have him to turn to now. Why didn’t you just let him screw you, up there in Ginny’s bed, when he was so red-hot horny, but hadn’t a rubber? He wanted you so badly, back then – just you! Not Ginny, you! Why did you stop him, when you wanted it yourself? Because you thought there was no way he would pull out in time? Because you doubted he would even – try? He would have screwed you. So what? What did you gain being reasonable!? Nothing…’_

But even in her irrational, panicked state, she had to admit that these thoughts did not lead her anywhere. It was not at all like her to think that way. It was not – rational. She could not at all be serious about these thoughts. She had done the right thing! Yes, she had.

Dizzy from fear and the frantic way she was breathing, Hermione cowered down beside one of the sinks and pressed her forehead against her knees.

She needed to calm down. There was always the chance that she was just overreacting, she told herself. It was not at all proven that she was pregnant, yet.  

A helpless sob escaped her throat.

But what on earth should she do, if she was?

She needed to know. She needed to know – at once. She could not bear this uncertainty.

But she would not go to Madam Pomfrey. No – she did not want anyone to know of this mess. Maybe everything would be fine. Yes, maybe…

OO

She walked to classes a haze that day, unable to concentrate. All she could do was thinking about her plan. Since Malfoy had eased her of the burden of his homework, Hermione hoped that she would actually manage to find a little time for herself now.

For once she was lucky.

And so, in the afternoon, she went to the library to look up the information she needed.

She found it in one of the more quiet corners of the library in form of an old book that had a long crack at its back, which had been spello-taped.

‘A Witches Weeds’

_The handy guideline for the worries of a woman_

The cover was worn and strained and the pages well-thumbed. Despite her worries, Hermione had to smile. It looked as if she had come across a book that was almost a best seller around the school. Who would have thought! 

She took it to one of the large tables that were bathed in sunlight and started to read the register.

It covered issues from the first hardships of puberty up to child nursing.

There were recipes for tinctures of Bubotubler Pus against the first spots, cosmetic recipes to brighten the skin and smooth the hair, teas to ease monthly pains, a long row of protection breweries, a couple of pregnancy tests, teas against morning sickness and other side-effects of pregnancy, special balms to be massaged into the skin of a swelling belly, potions that would ease the pains of birth and a long list covering child nursing matters, like Belly-ache Tea, Teething Paste and other stuff.

Just two topics were not covered by the book, Hermione noticed. One were Abortion Breweries, the other Love, or called Desire Potions. Instead there was a note that advised the reader to turn to a nurse, or medi-witch about the first and reminded of the fact that Love Potions were illegal.  

Hermione decided to just focus on the pregnancy tests for once. Maybe all her worries would be eased by the result.

But most of the potions were too complicated and needed a too long time to be brewed, or required a couple of ingredients that were not within her reach.

She would not be able to pick all that stuff from Snape’s store without his notice and she was already in deep enough trouble without getting caught.

Besides, she was certainly eager to get a quick result. No way that she would wait half a month to make one of those potions.

She finally chose a recipe for a tea that would turn the urine to a deep purple colour as a positive indicator.

It was easy to make and promised a prompt result. But what was most important – both weeds, Storksbill and Ophrys apifera, the Bee orchid, that’s flowers resembled the bumble bee in shape and colour, grew outside behind one of the greenhouses. And stirring-nettles, that could be added to cause a diuretic effect, should not be difficult to get either. It did not even matter, whether the weeds were fresh picked, or dried. The only problem was that they needed to be collected in moonlight.

Hermione decided to give it a try. 

The book also said that the tea could be used to identify a baby’s gender at a later point of pregnancy as it would turn the pee either pink, or blue then.

Well, this was hardly what Hermione wanted to think about at the moment.

No, no, definitely not! A simple yes, or no would do.

Suddenly a shadow fell over the pages. “Why hello, Granger,” a well known voice drawled behind her, “do you have so much time for background reading once again?”

**OO**

He had not at all meant to startle her, but she almost dropped dead out of her seat as he spoke.

“Goodness, Malfoy!” she gasped, loud enough to make the librarian glare at them, and slammed the book shut.

“Just Malfoy will do,” he stated with a smug grin and cast the book a closer look, but she pressed the front cover against her chest. Nonetheless, he managed to recognise the title.

“A Witches Weeds?” he taunted, “considering a career in Potions, Granger? You surely have talent.”

She blushed furiously and stammered, “It’s em … an .. a project, Yes! It’s just some research for a project.”

“Whatever you say,” he smirked and then added more seriously: “Come, we need to finally discuss that Halloween Feast. I want to get that over with.”

Granger looked at him with surprise. “All right,” she sighed, “just let me take that book back.”

“Of course,” Draco agreed. “But you better hurry,” he could not prevent himself from saying once he sensed her surprise.

“Sure Malfoy, I would not dream of letting you wait.” she responded with an unmistakable note of sarcasm and turned to the back of the library.

He craned his neck, but could not see to which shelf she returned the mysterious book, she was so eager to hide from him.

A few minutes later, she returned and he got up from his chair.

“So. Where do you want to have our discussion?” she asked.

For a moment, they looked at each other and Draco was actually a little uncertain of what to respond. He immediately fell back into his reliable way of dealing with her. “Why, it’s you, who’s supposed to be so smart, Granger” he mocked, “so go ahead, you tell me.”

A furious spark lit up in her hazel eyes at his mockery and he clearly noticed her nostrils widening as she pursed her lips in a very McGonagall like manner. Instead of the angry answer he expected, she suddenly cast him the sweetest of smiles, which was just bound to be jeering. 

“I’m pleased that you finally accept that fact, Malfoy. Well, if you so kindly leave the decision up to me, I’d rather not head up to either of our quarters.”

After a glance at the window, she faced him again. “Why don’t we go outside, instead?” 

Draco did not like the way their little battle of words was progressing. “What makes you think I would allow _you_ to enter my rooms, Granger?” he snapped more sharply than he actually meant to.

“Oh. I almost forgot. How stupid of me, really,” she remarked with an icy glare. “Well then, Malfoy, as you said; ‘ _Let’s get it over with.’”_

It pained him not to be able to get back at her for her bluntness, but they were running out of time as far as discussing the Feast was concerned, so he just glared back at her and turned towards the exit, Granger at his heels.

OO

It felt a little strange to walk the halls beside her in halfway calm agreement and the curious glances of quite a lot of students followed them as they passed. 

Once they were outside, the looks they got became even more odd and Draco had to admit that he and the Mudblood apparently taking a walk, must be some surprise to everyone.

Still not speaking, they headed for a high beech tree by the bank of the lake. Or rather for the pair of back-less granite benches, facing each other, that were positioned beneath.

It was a beautiful harvest day, the leaves of the Forbidden Forrest glowed in rich colours of red, orange and gold and the sun was still pleasantly mild. Nonetheless they should have probably brought their cloaks along Draco supposed.

Well, this talk would not take long anyway. He did not intend to put up with Granger’s moods all afternoon.

He watched as she took a seat at the very edge of one of the benches and was momentarily tempted to sit as closely beside her as possible, just to annoy her, but immediately dismissed the weird idea. He took a seat on the opposite bench instead and leaned back against the mighty trunk.

Granger did not look at him. She wore a steep wrinkle between her eyes as she creased her brows. Her gaze was fixed on the grass between them that was already littered with plenty of bright orange beech leaves.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” she asked, tensely.

“The Halloween Feast, Granger,” he drawled, nervelessly. “Gracious, how dense are you?”

Her head snapped up at that, a few of her bushy ringlets were quivering in the breeze. “I know that perfectly well, Malfoy,” she frowned, “I just meant what – _exactly_ – you plan to discuss. And if you don’t mind, I would like to get started. I don’t have all day.”

He could not tell why, but this time her angered way to talk to him did not annoy him in the slightest. On the contrary, it was even tend to rise his amusement. In fact, he was rather convinced that Granger was not half as sure of herself as she wanted him to believe.

“Well, let’s just go through the list point by point then. We needn’t do all the planning. The teachers will work something out, too, but they want us to bring in some ideas as well. I’m no more interested in this than you are, Granger, but it won’t look good if we don’t come up with a single…”

“Let’s start on the decorations then,” she interrupted.

He frowned, “What’s there to discuss? They are fine as they always are, with illuminated pumpkins and fluttering bats and stuff.”

Granger did not look convinced. “Mmmm, maybe, yes, but I still think…”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” he interrupted her harshly. 

“No, but –”

“See? Next point then. Which classes should participate? I’d say just fourth to seventh years.”

**OO**

“You can’t do that,’ Hermione complained. “Just remember, how much fun we had in our first year!”

_‘Well, you hardly had,’_ the nasty little voice in her head interjected _‘You spent most of the evening crying at the girls’_ _bathroom. Well, well, things could turn out quite similar for you this year. But you better hadn’t expected Harry fighting a Troll for you this time_.’

“Oh yes, the Troll,” Malfoy drawled and made her snap out of her brooding. “Why, that’s a fine idea, Granger! Let’s hire a Troll. We’ll never be bothered to plan anything else again.”

“Too funny. No, but in the Muggle world…” she began, but he groaned loudly at that. Hermione threw him an evil glare. “Are we going to discuss this, or not?!” she snapped.

Against her expectation he flashed her another grin. “You’re too funny yourself, Granger, honestly. But I’m not at all interested in _Muggelstudies_ , so leave me alone with that, will you?”

She looked at him, a trace of surprise and hesitation on her face. “But it’s about Halloween,” she objected.

This caught his interest. “So be there,” he sighed, seemingly bored, but she could tell from the glitter in his eyes that he now tried to tease her. “What do your _precious_ Muggle’s do?”

“Children dress up in creepy disguises and run from house to house, collecting sweets. It’s a lot of fun for them, and even people our age enjoy dressing up in creepy costumes, sometimes.”

“What do you mean by that? Creepy?” he asked flabbergasted.

“Well, I haven’t been to such a party, but I heard, Vampires, Zombies and Witches are amongst the favourites.”

Malfoy looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “I always knew Muggles weren’t sane,” he smirked. “They are _so_ dense!”

**OO**

In the end, they had agreed that the suggestion of ‘ _Muggle_ _Halloween’_ as Draco called it would do and had left it at that, seemingly both relieved to get a room.

But Granger’s earlier eagerness to hide the book of him, had risen his interest. Therefore, he returned to the library after dinner. He knew he needed to hurry, it was just another hour until the library would close.

But where to begin? Well, he knew the title at least. 

Just when he turned into the direction Granger had headed for this afternoon an idea occurred to him. He quickly headed back a few meters, rounded one of the shelves to his right and picked _‘Magical Maps of the_ _Wizarding World’_ out its place. Immediately, Axis’ bluish-with face appeared between the pages.

“Ahh- Draco,” he exclaimed, “it was about time that you paid me a visit!”

“Hello Axis,” Draco replied with a smile, “How do you do? Anything new amongst the dead? I hope I didn’t disturb you?”

“Not at all,” he ghost assured him as he rose out of his book, stretching his blurry limps. “I haven’t been out since the night of the Sorting. Can I be of any help to you, my young friend?”

“Well, yes,” Draco admitted, “I’m in a bit of a hurry, you see. I’m searching for a book. ‘A Witches Weeds’, do you happen to know that?”

To his great surprise the ghost’s expression cracked into a truly wicked smile.

_“Draco!”_ he stated, in mimic shock, “is there anything your father should _know_ of?”

Draco was completely taken aback by that comment. “Father?” he stammered, “No, why – what – I mean – Please Axis, can you help? It’s rather important to me.”

For some unclear reason that statement was only tend to amuse his ghostly friend further. “Yes, I can very well imagine that!” he chuckled, “Well then, follow me.” 

With that he drifted ahead, a very confused Draco at his heels.

OO

The moon slowly rose in her trace and dipped the grounds of Hogwarts into a soft, silvery light, when a small, hooded figure slipped out of the large front doors.

Curiously, Draco stepped closer to his bedroom window and watched, who ever they were hurry across the moonlit lawn towards the greenhouses.

Due to the running the cloak’s hood slipped to reveal a mass of bushy, brown hair. Draco gasped with surprise.

There was only one person he knew, who had such hair. What the heck did she do out there this late?

His first impulse was to follow her, but he quickly dismissed that thought. He still recovered from the earlier encounter at the library. The book she had been reading had turned out to be quite a surprise to him. If he imagined that he had told Axis that he – urgently – needed the bloody tome. How embarrassing!

Nonetheless he was eager to know, what Granger was up to. He would not have guessed that she had the guts to sneak around in the dark, without her pals.

But while he was still wondering whether or not to follow her, she already returned from whatever she had been doing out there. She had hid her face with the hood of her cloak again and cast nervous glances in all directions, before she finally slipped back into the castle, a bunch on weeds, or flowers, in her hand.

**OO**

It was around midnight, when Hermione returned from the bathroom.

She could have screamed – but not a single tear fell from her wide open eyes. She was too numb to even tremble. There was no arguing. The result had been the deepest shape of purple there was.

**A/N:** Oops, I’m _so_  sorry! But I guess you already saw that coming? I know it’s a weird idea for a Draco/Hermione romance, but bear with me, will you? I have a plan…

**A very happy new year to all of you!**

As for Hermione’s Wee-Wee Tea: I picked the ingredients, since the names, ‘Storksbill’ and ‘Bee orchid’ seemed to suit her propose quite well, that’s all.

Thanks a lot for reading this fiction! Your comments certainly mean a lot to me!

Smiles, Serpentina


	9. At the Boys’ Bathroom

At the staff meeting their suggestion was met with great approval.

The old fool of a Headmaster had just recommended that the choice of costumes should not be reduced to creepy disguises. He had added that some of the girls might prefer to dress up as pretty beings.

The teachers had unanimously come to the agreement that they would not participate in the charade since especially Snape had declared that he would not dream of dressing up with a mask. 

The Half-giant’s idea to expand the decorations with hazes of mist in the more or less rough outlines of magical beasts had led to some discussion, but in the end, Professor Flitwick had adjudged this could be arranged.

OO

Despite his obvious boredom, Draco finally started to almost like the idea of disguises. There was no way he would admit that, of course.

Just once he had almost given his thoughts away, when Crabbe and Goyle had asked him what the heck the purpose of the whole matter was.

“Well, you see, in the Muggle world…” Draco had started, but had been interrupted by Pansy’s giggling.

Luckily she had supposed him to imitate Granger in mockery and the stunned expressions on his friends’ faces had faded into relieved grins at that assumption.

Whenever someone else asked him about his plans for the feast, Draco told them that he had not thought about it yet and would just pick anything at hand; and that the whole thing was basically meant as an entertainment for the younger students anyway.

In reality he had a wicked idea for a _‘costume’_ , he just was not sure if he would manage to get his hands on what was requited.

Granger did not take the slightest interest in her own idea anymore. She had completely locked herself within her shell and was acting quite odd recently.

This was another thing Draco would not have admitted in front of anyone, but ever since the day at the library, he had kept watching her. It was almost two weeks now and she still seemed to be suffering rather badly from her break-up with Potter.

Draco often heard her crying during the nights, but since he had not any plausible reason to drop by, he tried to ignore it the best he could.

During the days she tried her best to appear unaffected, but he still noticed her suffering. At meal times she hardly ate anything. She was pale and quiet and did not show off in class anymore – and whenever Potter and the little Weasley wench crossed her way in the halls, she was just ridiculously eager to not look their way.

Draco did not really understand what bothered him about Granger’s obvious misery, though. He certainly was not supposed to care.

Anyway, today he was determined to ban any further thoughts of her from his mind.

In order to pick their costumes for the ball the students had been allowed to take an extra visit to Hogsmeade. Even the first and second years were guided along the streets of the wizarding settlement by their teachers.

Wherever he looked, students and staff were hustling and bustling about. He would have to be even more careful not to be caught.

OO

Finally, around eleven o’clock while Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were preoccupied searching the shelves at Honey Dukes for their favourite sweets, Draco secretly slipped out of the crowded shop and headed for the little book store across the street, a place that would be deserted on a day like this. A place that could help him to put his plan to life. 

He was not let down on his hopes. 

The shopkeeper, an old, friendly looking man, who was bent above the Daily Prophet on his desk, cast him a surprised, but kind smile at his entry.

Carefully, so not to draw unwanted attention to himself, Draco explored the high shelves for some time, picked up a book every now and then and replaced it after some examination, until the shopkeeper focused on his newspaper again.

That was what Draco had been waiting for. He hurriedly grabbed a book of which he could just spot a single copy and moved it to another shelf.

“Excuse me, Sir,” he then called, “could you help me please? I’m searching for _‘Seventy-seven Star-cards’,_ but I can’t find it? Do you happen to have it anywhere?”

Just as he had expected, the old man began to examine the shelf from where Draco had just removed the book.

“How odd,” he muttered, “I could have sworn there was one more over here. Wait a moment, lad, will you? I’ll get another copy from the store room.”

As soon as the old wizard had left Draco sprang into action.

He picked a little silvery box with entwined engraving design from the pocket of his cloak. With a smug expression on his face he grabbed a small amount of Floo-Powder, clapped the box shut again and put it back in its place.

A quick glance into the direction of the store room assured him that the old man had not returned yet.

Hurriedly, Draco jumped into the wide, head height fireplace in the back of the shop.

If he needed to pick a costume, he would make sure it was spectacular. He just wondered what Granger would say if she saw –

_‘Damn!’_ He had done it again. _‘Was there no escape to think of that Mudblood?’_

With an exasperated sigh, Draco opened his fist with the Floo-Powder and pinched his eyes shut. “ _Knockturn Alley,”_ he muttered.

**OO**

Hermione was not in the mood for a Hogsmeade trip.

Her back pressed against her working desk, she sat on the floor of her living room and stared sulkily out of the window. A light breeze moved the blue curtains. It was a peaceful, quiet day, but the beautiful harvest weather was not able to distract from her worries.

Nothing could.

Even in bright sunshine she felt as if a thick dark cloud was hovering above her, waiting to pour its icy rain, with thunder and lightning when she last expected it. She felt in a trap and no matter where she turned, there was no way out.

She knew she had to face the truth. She could not hide in her rooms all year. She knew she had to make a choice, had to entrust herself to someone, but yet shied that step.

She was sad about her break up with Harry of course and it pained her if she saw him and Ginny in the hallways.

What really stung, though, was the betrayal in itself – his and Ginny’s. This and the fact that she could not talk to anyone about her worries.

During the past week she had repeated the test two more times, hoping there might have been a mistake, but the result had been the same. She still could not bring herself to tell Harry about the pregnancy. Not after the way he had treated her at they break-up.

Ironically Ginny, who would have been the next person Hermione might have turned for comfort to, was not a suitable choice either.

And Ron, whom she had considered as a friend so far, was strikingly casual and indifferent. She would not have expected this after everything they had been through.

There had been a time when she would have sworn that the three of them could have trusted each other with their lives. How much everything had changed.

But even if Ron had been more willing to comfort her, Hermione was not sure if she could have told them about the true origin of her worries. It was kind of embarrassing and awkward to talk to him about these kind of things.

The mere idea made her cringe, but she might have still tried, had it not been for the fact that he was Ginny’s brother and Harry’s best friend, what did not make him the most objective counsellor.

Hermione had no doubts that Harry and Ginny had told him their own version of the happenings that had led to their relationship and Harry’s break-up with her.

She dreaded that Ron would try to justify their actions in some way and she was not at all sure that he would not divulge the delicate news to one, or even both of them.

Neville had briefly occurred as a choice to her, since he was such a kind and gentle person. Hermione had no doubts that he would try his best to help her, but he was hardly able to handle his own life and she felt reluctant to burden him with her problems. There was not really anything he could do to truly help her, anyway.

And if she was honest with herself, she was ashamed to tell him.

She had always been the strong, sensible one, who knew the right answer to everything. She had been so proud to have everything in her life planned out, to even be able to help others with their troubles. To tutor them and whisper advises to them in class, or give them a hand with a spell. It had given her a feeling of pride and – she was ashamed to confess it to herself – superiority. She had been so proud of her Head Girl position.

It was bitter to recognise and admit her own impuissance all of a sudden. How on earth had she managed to mess up her life like this?

If she only had another female friend besides Ginny. It would have been so much easier to discuss these matters with another girl.

Lavender might be an option, but she was not the kind of girl to keep a secret. She would most likely pass the information to Parvati and a few _‘very good_ _friends’_ under the seal of secrecy – the best way to spread a rumour there was.

But even in the unlikely case that she did not tell them, Lavender was still Ron’s girlfriend. It did not take much fantasy to imagine the way the bit of information would go.

Hermione sighed deeply.

Now she regretted even more to never have made any female friends in her years at Hogwarts. She was all alone, with no one to turn to. And she really did not know what to do.

She had even considered to entrust herself to McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey, but yet, she sheered that step, too. They would probably advise her to talk to ‘ _the_ _father’_ and she just could not bring herself to do that.

**OO**

On Tuesday morning, after his Charms lesson, Draco saw Granger hurriedly rush out of the Transfigurations classroom.

With a frown he realised that she did not even carry her bag along as she darted down the corridor to disappear into the nearest bathroom.

She had an almost panicked look on her face and did glance neither left nor right. 

What surprised him even more than the hurry she was in, was the fact that this was – well – a boys’ bathroom.

Startled by the oddity of her behaviour, Draco wondered whether he should follow.

Whatever this was about, it seemed to be important.

All around him the students moved to their classrooms for their next lesson, but Granger had not returned yet.

Draco fixed the door she had disappeared through with a pricing stare. She had been through a lot of trouble lately. What if she considered... something stupid…

He shook his head in a dismissive gesture. No, she did not seem the kind of person to react that way, but still… He could not be sure, could he?

No, no, she would not, he told himself, she was probably just crying about a comment someone made... about Potter and the Weasley bitch…

He could follow her and maybe make some comment that would annoy her and snatch her out of it.

Yes, he decided, that he would do.

But he had hardly opened the door, when he stopped dead in his tracks. Startled, he realised the noise of retching from one of the cubicles.

For all it looked like Granger was truly sick – a thought that worried him to a surprising amount.

This was not what he had expected at all. He did not want to walk in on her in a situation like this, but felt unable to leave either. He could not tell why, but he just had to know what was wrong with her.

So he just lingered on the threshold, his hand still clasping the doorknob, feeling uncomfortably out of place.

As quietly as he could, he pulled the door shut, but only when the sound of gagging finally subsided he slowly stepped closer. 

When he appeared in the doorway, he found Granger cowering beside the toilet, her head leaning against the wooden wall of the cubicle. Her eyes were closed as from exhaustion, or defeat. She was deathly pale and tears were running silently down her cheeks.

Within seconds the fragments completed to a clear picture inside his mind and the realisation truly caught him off guard.

Just then she noticed that she was no longer alone and turned her head. The depressed expression on her face made room for a concerned frown and turned into a look of pure horror as she recognised him.

They stared right into each other’s eyes and Draco clearly saw her pupils dilate with shock.

Her obvious repulsion struck him like a blow. She was afraid of him. Afraid of what he would say, or do. She expected him to use this detection against her – expected him to spill her secret.

It hurt.

He could not tell why, but it bothered him to see the open fear and dislike in her eyes.

Confused he took a step backwards.

What on earth was wrong with him? This was the perfect opportunity to mortify, or blackmail her and only a few weeks ago he would have probably done just that. Now whatsoever the idea held no longer any appeal to him.

It made no sense at all, but he did not _want_ to hurt, or humiliate her. He wanted…

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was completely unsure of himself. He just did not know what to do.

He halfway wanted to ask her, whether she was all right, but simply could not bring himself to word the question. At the same time, he wanted to turn around and just leave, but found that he could not. He even wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder in an appeasing gesture to tell her that she need not be afraid, to kneel down beside her, lift her up and take her out of here. 

It was impossible.

He just could not do that. She would never, ever accept, or even welcome his help. He must not allow himself to let her see that he… He swallowed. He was so confused…

All the time her fearful brown eyes rested on him.

The pressure to show any kind of reaction became almost unbearable. He could not remain just standing there, starring at her. The thoughts whirled around in a tumble of fury, disappointment and regret and before he could stop himself, he already did just what she thought he would.

“Why hello Granger,” he smirked, “is there a special problem, or do you just have a sensitive stomach? Potter wouldn’t have left you with a little memory, would he?”

The words sounded foul to his own ears. He noticed her shoulders sag, watched as the brown eyes clouded with resignation, before she pulled her gaze away.

He felt no triumph, no satisfaction, and no malicious pleasure to see her like this. He was completely put off and when she did not even try to defend herself, he felt truly horrible.

**OO**

So he had figured it out. The whole school was bound to know by supper time at the latest.

Hermione could not have cared less. The brief fear she had felt at his detection faded into resignation when she realised that he – _knew_.

“Go to hell, Malfoy,” she just muttered. Feeling utterly defeated she turned her face away. 

So _this_ was how Harry would find out. She was sure that Malfoy would just _love_ to use this new information against Harry – and her.

There was no way he would let an opportunity like this pass. She could all too well imagine the shocked, accusing reactions of her teachers and friends.

Not that any of this really mattered – she was in a state of desperation far beyond worrying – it did not seem to matter to her anymore – nothing mattered.

The sudden sound of his voice cut through her sulky thoughts, starling her. “Come on, Granger, you can’t stay in here.”

She looked up at him, an expression of disdain on her face. “What would you care?” 

For a split second she thought he would not respond at all. Then a well familiar sneer crossed his face.

“As much as I dislike the thought, you’re Head Girl, Granger. You have a reputation to keep up and it doesn’t pass if anyone finds you like this. Now come on. Get up.”

Hermione tried her best, but her knees felt too shaky to carry her still. So she just sank down into her half sitting position again, with her back pressed against the wooden wall of the cubicle and pinched her eyes shut. If she refused to pay any attention to him, maybe he would just leave she hoped. 

Malfoy had other plans, though.

“Go away,” Hermione wailed, as he suddenly grabbed her arm to drag her up again – to her feet.

“Don’t! I’m going to be sick,” she complained, but he did not let go of her arm.

“No you won’t,” he told her in his usual Malfoy-ish manner that was tend to annoy her, despite her desperation and brought back some of her stubbornness.

The nerve of him! 

Suppressing a sigh of frustration, Hermione tried to get up once again. He would not leave her alone if she did not. She did not have much of a choice.

And with Malfoy, pulling her she actually managed to get up this time. Quite shakily she pressed the palm of her free hand against the wall and waited for the funny feeling in her head to subside, but Malfoy’s steely grip already tightened around her arm, dragging her forward.

Hermione took a few unsteady steps, but all of a sudden the surroundings seemed to turn around her and a whirl of dark spots clouded her vision. In a fit of dizziness she reached out for the next thing available, which happened to be – Malfoy.

Her hands tried to grab his arm, but slipped and merely caught his sleeve instead. With a sharp ripping noise the material of his robe gave way and Hermione felt how the breath caught in her throat.

Now he would snap, she was convinced of it.

Much to her surprise, though, he did not give as much as a comment in the matter, but just flung his arm around her shoulders, steadying her.

“Shht – It’s OK,” he muttered, dragging her closer, “it’s OK. Come.”

Completely stunned by the unexpected display of compassion, Hermione struggled against his grip. She could not believe that he actually meant to help her.

He would let go of her the moment she dared to lean into him, wouldn’t he? He wanted to make her trust him so that she would lose balance and fall.

This must be a cruel joke. It had to be. It could not be anything else.

But his embrace remained strikingly real and solid and very hesitantly, Hermione dared to lean against him.

Malfoy did not laugh, nor did he let go of her. Supporting her unsteady steps, he led her over towards one of the sinks and held her as her trembling fingers opened the tap.

She did not understand any of this, but it was not the time to question the situation.

Gratefully, Hermione started to splash her face with cold water. It felt so good to be able to cool her heated cheeks and clean her mouth.

She hated being this weak in front of Malfoy of all people, but there was not much she could do about it.

She still felt his hands on her arms, ready to support her and prevent her fall if she needed it.

When she finally leaned back a green rimmed handkerchief was placed in her fingers. Just as wordlessly as he had given it, Hermione took the offer and started to dry her face. Her eyes still fixed on the damp piece of cloth in her tightly clutched fist, Hermione took a step backwards and nudged against Malfoy, who immediately tightened his arms as if he feared she might stumble at the sudden contact.

Neither of them spoke a word, but Hermione was suddenly very well aware of his presence. Not only of the support he offered her, but of the feel of his hands on her upper arms and the warmth of his chest in her back. He did not move, did not say a word, he was just – there.

When she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze met his in the mirror above the sink. It was the oddest sight she could imagine.

Her pale, tearstained face staring back at her and Malfoy’s head just a few inches beside hers, so that some of her messed up, bushy brown strands brushed across his cheek at her slightest movement. For once he did not look vicious and smug, but rather unsure and tentative and just as confused as she felt.

They both stared at each other’s reflection in the mirror and at the peculiar sight of his arms around her.    

Slowly, his left hand slid down across her upper arm and came to rest at her elbow. Just once.

Hermione caught her breath, but the gesture did not repeat. It could have been just a casual, unintentional movement, but it gave her an unexpected, irrational feeling of comfort and sympathy.

Closing her eyes, to shield herself from his gaze, she took in a quivering breath. She could not tell if it was her, who leaned back, or if he pulled her closer, but for a moment she was so close to him that she could even feel his heartbeat in her back.

She felt strangely sheltered, but likewise very vulnerable… and for a brief, irrational moment, she felt the impulse to just turn around and snuggle herself into his comforting embrace, but quickly dismissed the thought.

When she opened her eyes again, Malfoy’s eyes were still resting on her, but this time there was some of the old mockery in them.

“Honestly Granger, you look a mess. We can’t go out there like this,” he told her, turning her around. 

Despite his harsh words he started to mildly smooth her hair down with his hand. His fingertips brushed across her skin in a feather-light, almost timid kind of movement that caught the breath in her throat.

“Just trying to strait that horrible mop of yours,” he justified his actions the very next second and drew his hand back. 

Slowly, Hermione lifted her head to look at him. His hand still lingered in mid movement, beside her head for a few more seconds, before he let his arm sink.

Their eyes met again and it was a strangely affectionate moment. His gaze held the strangest mixture of worry, fondness and discomfort she had ever seen.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asked, softly and she nodded, determined to get over with the despised weakness.

But her steps turned out to be quite unsteady, when she headed for the door.

**OO**

With an exasperated sigh Draco lifted her up.

“So come. But don’t – S.P.E.W. – on me,” he could not prevent himself from saying, hinting to her former Elf Project.

She immediately tensed in his arms and at her half muffled sob, he just drew her closer. He was not at all sure that she had got what he had meant.

“There, there, Granger, it’s OK, don’t cry,” he heard himself mutter much to his own discomfort. 

Surprisingly, she relaxed at this and leaned her forehead against his neck, drawing in a quivering breath that sounded startling like another sob.

The skin of her forehead felt cold despite the crying and her hairline was slightly moist with sweat, or water, he could not tell, but much to his own surprise, Draco noticed that he did not at all recoil at this detection.

**OO**

Hermione pinched her eyes tight shut while Malfoy carried her out of the bathroom. She was still shaken from dizziness, but that was not the only reason that made her head spin. Fortunately the next lesson had already begun and the corridors were empty. No one saw them on their way back to her quarters.

Whenever she opened her eyes she caught a glimpse of black cloth with the Slytherin Crest on it, reminding her that it was indeed Malfoy, who carried her so cautiously. Overwhelmed with the incredibility of that idea, she immediately pinched her eyes shut again.

When she felt the pleasant warmth of sunlight, which hit the coloured glass of the high windows and dipped the whole place into a dreamlike, bluish light, so intense that she even noticed it through her half closed lids, she knew they had reached their corridor.

In front of her door, Malfoy slowed his steps down as if he was not sure weather to set her down, or not. 

After a moment of hesitation he seemed to have come to a decision.

“Snitch,” he muttered, carrying her inside.

Since Hermione was so confused herself, she did not do anything but to peer out beneath half closed lids and waited what Malfoy did next.

She was more than a little surprised when she felt herself carefully placed on one of the couches and realised that Malfoy started to remove her shoes.

With a soft rumbling sound they dropped to the hard-wood floor. It was the only noise around and made her even more aware of the peculiarity of the situation.

Completely befuddled, Hermione drew in a sharp breath. She had never expected that Malfoy would do anything like this – and for her of all people.

A strange, intense feeling struck her that was not easy to name.

The next moment she felt a woollen blanket covering her. It was only then, Hermione fully opened her eyes.

Malfoy was bending over her. He had the very same look in his eyes, with which he had contemplated her at the bathroom earlier.

She tried to tell him that she was glad that he had brought her up here, wanted to thank him, but could not come up with a single thing to say. Her mind seemed to be entirely blank and she simply could not look away. His normally so hard grey eyes were surprisingly lenient and she was sure to read concern and sympathy in them.

It was Malfoy, who broke the spell. Softly pressing her shoulder, he leaned back. “I’ll come back after the lesson,” he told her.

This caused Hermione to blink. She suddenly struggled and sat up.

“Wait, I’ll come along. I can’t miss the lesson. I …”

Malfoy only shook his head at that.

“I don’t know, Granger,” he started, seriously, “We have Potions right now and I don’t think… Are you sure you’ll make it through that class, with all its scents and steam from the cauldrons?”

Hermione bit her lip. She had to admit that he had a point there. Shaking her head she sank into the couches pillows.

But then, she suddenly darted up again. “My bag!” she exclaimed, “I left it in the classroom, when I … I need to get it!”

She tried to get up once more, but Malfoy just gripped her shoulders and gently pressed her down again. “No you don’t. Don’t worry about your bag, will you? I’ll take care of that. Now lean back and close your eyes,” he told her and for once, Hermione did not argue. 

**OO**

McGonagall cast him a suspicious look, when he appeared in the doorway of her third years’ Transfigurations class, the same room, Granger had had her earlier class in.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked with a frown.

“It’s Miss Ganger’s bag, Professor,” he told her, “I’ve come to get it.”

The teacher’s frown even deepened as her eyes spotted the bag beneath Granger’s table. She apparently had not noticed it when she returned to teach after the break.

“What happened?” she asked, concerned.

Draco, who felt everyone’s eyes resting on him, decided it would be best to make up an excuse.

“It’s nothing of importance,” he lied, “Granger had to take care of a girl in her position as Head Girl and couldn’t return to get her bag before the start of the next lesson. She asked me to pick it for her and bring it along to Potions.”

This seemed to convince the teacher. She exhaled noticeably and the stern line across her mouth subsided.

“Ahh – yes, of course, Mr. Malfoy.”

She nodded into the direction of the bag and added, “Take it along and please remind Miss Granger to turn to Madam Pomfrey, or me for advice should the situation requite it.”

For a moment Draco just stared at her, wondering if she knew of Granger’s condition, but then he realised that the professor was speaking of the supposedly task Granger was fulfilling. They were expected to treat the responsibilities of those students who turned to them for help discreetly – mostly to encourage everyone to seek their help more easily – but they were still supposed to inform a teacher, or the medi-witch, if they felt they could not handle a matter on their own. One of these matters was the situation, Granger was currently in, herself. He almost laughed at the irony of this.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Draco hurried to assure the professor. He picked up the bag and was surprised how heavy it was.

What the heck did Granger carry around in there, he wondered as he turned to leave.

Just then, McGonagall’s stern voice caused him to stop in his tracks. 

“And… Mr. Malfoy?” she frowned upon him, “You’d better pick a fresh robe, or fix that sleeve of yours. I hadn’t expected you to be so negligent about your clothing.”

With a frown, Draco’s looked at his sleeve, where Granger’s hands had torn the material at her attempt to support herself.

_‘Damn!’_ In his concern for her well-being, he had completely forgotten about that fact.

Luckily McGonagall had not asked any uncomfortable questions, he had no answers to. 

Once he had exited the classroom he pointed his wand at the damaged sleeve. “Reparo,” he muttered and the gash disappeared, leaving nothing but black, flawless cloth.

As Head Boy he was allowed to use magic inside the corridors and there was no need that Snape or anyone else questioned him about his torn sleeve.

OO

A few minutes later he arrived at the Potions classroom. His Head of House looked up at his entry.

“What’s the matter, Mr Malfoy?” he asked surprised, though not unfriendly. 

Draco was well aware of the curious stares of his classmates. He could not blame them. He must give a weird impression with his own bag over his left and Granger across his right shoulder. 

Not to mention that they both were late, or in her case, still absent. It did not take a genius mind to realise that something was going on. 

Especially the Gryffindors eyed him rather suspiciously. On a few faces he could spot open dislike. 

Quickly he gave Snape the same explanation as McGonagall before and headed for his table.

He was well aware of the stares in his back and also of the empty seat beside his. His thoughts drifted off towards the Head Girl’s quarters.

He really wondered whether Granger was all right and yet, he did not want to start questioning his earlier actions. Hell, no!

It had been so unlike him to treat her with so much care and yet, it had felt so right.

Slowly he turned his head to look over his shoulder and caught a stare of open hatred from Potter.

An unexpected, completely irrational wave of fury struck him and Draco suddenly had to fight the urge to jump up and punch the bastard. It was a weird thought, but he did not even consider hexing him with magic – he wanted to grab his robe and punch him – hard. How dare he looking at him like that?! How dare he…

By then, Snape’s instructions dragged his attention towards the lesson. “You better take a seat with some of your House Members, Mr. Malfoy. As the time is already emerged it won’t be a good idea for you to start working on your own now. But please copy the notes from the board, nonetheless.”

Draco did as advised. He chose to sit with Crabbe and Goyle, although Pansy already shifted closer to Millicent to make room for him and flashed him an inviting smile.

“Hey Draco,” Goyle asked curiously as he took a seat between him and Crabbe. “Where’ve you been?”

He cast a quick glance at the door. “And where’s the Mudblood? She doesn’t really take care of a student, does she? What happened?”

He did not even know, why Goyle’s statement annoyed him that much.

“Yes, she does,” he snapped, sharper than he had expected, “and now leave it, Goyle, will you?!

Ignoring the confused and the slightly hurt expression on the other boy’s face, Draco allowed himself to sink into his brooding once again.

OO

After the lesson Potter and his gang approached him, looking as if they were about to go into a battle. “Where’s Hermione?” Potter glared and reached for her bag, with a possessive gesture. 

Before he could get a hold of it, Draco snatched it away, though.

“Give it here!” Weasley mixed into the fight and Potter made another move for her bag. “Why do you have her bag, anyway!? What have you done to her?! he snapped.

Once again, Draco was tempted to punch him. He was so mad his voice was quivering as he spoke.

**A/N:** First of all a big Thank You for commenting!

I suppose the last chapter gave some of you a nasty shock, but I hope the way things are developing doesn’t scare you fellow Draco/Hermione shippers away.

It’s a weird idea for a D/H romance to have her expecting Harry’s child and it will become rather complicated for some of the characters, but… well… give it a chance, will you? I'm really curious to know what you think of this!

Smiles, Serpentina


	10. No Pickled Toads

“That’s none of your bloody business anymore, Potter!!” Draco spat with venom. He was so mad that he found himself only barely able to control his rage. “Just go and screw that little tart of yours!”

“Heh, take that back, you jackass!” Weasley snapped furiously, stepping forward. 

Gasps of annoyance rose amongst the other Gryffindors, who had stopped on their way towards the stairs and now listened to their argument.

So far no one made an attempt to interfere, but Draco could easily imagine that matters might get out of hand.

With a quick glance over his shoulder he made sure that Crabbe and Goyle had not left the dungeons yet. He might be furious, but he certainly was no fool. He was not extraordinary fond of the idea to be hexed by an infuriated witness. The incident when he had ended up as a ferret in his fourth year had left him rather cautions about these matters and he had no desire to repeat the embarrassing experience.  

So he was quite satisfied to see his companions close by, watching the scene with interest.  

Even Pansy had joined the two boys. Her arms folded in front of her chest she was giving Potter and Weasley the evil eye – and if someone knew how to do that, Pansy did.  

It was good to know that his friends could back him up, should Potter or one of his fellows try anything.

Reassured by his observation, Draco cast an arrogant frown at his opponents. With a sneer he fixed Weasley’s outraged appearance. The doofus was so flushed with anger that the burning redness of his cheeks seemed eager to compete his hair. That whole family’s temper was so pathetically predictable. 

“I don’t – dream – of it!” Draco gave back in his most cocky manner. Strangely enough he had no trouble controlling his own temper as far as the red-head was concerned, just with Potter he almost lost it.

Nasty rotter that he was. How dare he fake any concern for Granger after turning her down like that?! How dare he play everyone’s Goody-goody Wonder-boy, if he was such a selfish, insensitive git?!

As soon as Draco looked his direction he once again felt the almost overwhelming urge to fling himself upon the Gryffindor.

Nonetheless Draco forced himself to resist that impulse and remain icy calm on the outside.

It was never good to allow first impulses to lead ones actions. A well-planed revenge would be double satisfying and would catch the adversary off guard when he least expected it.

He might be beside himself with anger, but he still remembered his tactics. And – in a way  – it was good that he did, because just then the door to the Potions classroom shattered open and a very infuriated Professor Snape approached them.

“What is going on here?” he demanded to know.

“Malfoy was insulting my sister!” Weasley started accusingly, “and he took Hermione’s bag!”

Snape’s dark eyes turned towards Draco, fixing his gaze, questionably.

“She asked me to bring it along for her, Sir. She had to leave rather em – unexpectedly – because of the task at hand,” he explained.

“But Potter,” he cast the other boy a look of pure hatred, “and Weasley here, tried to take her bag away from me. I kept hold of it of course – since Granger has parchments in there, concerning her Head Girl business, that aren’t supposed to get into the hands of just – anyone.”

As he had expected this comment was tend to infuriate the two Gryffindors even further. 

“You’re a freaking liar, Malfoy!” Weasley yelled, but the Professor’s snide voice cut him short.

“Enough of that!” he snapped. “Potter, Weasley, it is ten points off Gryffindor, each! For mixing into matters that do not concern you and for pulling up a fight.”

He turned to face Draco again and added more calmly, “Return that bag back to Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. But please bear in mind that it does not go well with your position to yell in the corridors and become entangled into a fight.” 

**OO**

Hermione awoke at the sound of the door creaking open.

Startled by the unexpected noise she sat bolt upright and blinked when she recognised Malfoy on the threshold of her quarters.

“Shht, it’s me. Don’t worry,” he stated, stepping fully into the room.

A few days ago she would have laughed at the irony of this. Now whatsoever she leaned back, surprisingly relieved. The realisation that it was him actually had a calming effect on her.

“Oh, it’s you, I thought … never mind,” she trailed off as he cast her an odd look.

She was sure that he knew whom she had expected to see and her startled reaction made perfectly clear that she would not have appreciated this person’s presence in the slightest.

For a few seconds they simply stared at each other, but while Hermione was very well aware of her own uncertainty, she could not tell what kind of thoughts crossed Malfoy’s mind, nor did she know what intentions had led him up here. She vaguely remembered that he had said he would come back after the lesson. But why?

He had been uncharacteristically compassionate earlier, but that was no guarantee that he would not fall back into his old way of behaviour, now that she was not a quivering wreck of emotional stress anymore. It was quite unlikely that he would continue to treat her as nicely as he had done it today.

With a feeling of dubiety she glanced up at the blond Slytherin, who still stood motionless in mid of the room, studying her features and became even more aware of the position she was in. Suddenly the room was uncomfortably quiet and Hermione felt somewhat awkward lying on the couch with Malfoy around.

After a couple of seconds she threw the blanket back and sat up – slowly enough that it would not cause a new fit of dizziness this time.

Right then her eyes fell on her bag that still hung across Malfoy’s shoulder and with a mixture of surprise and shock she realised that he had actually brought it along from McGonagall’s classroom. Seeking his gaze, she noticed him looking straight at her and swallowed. “Oh, thank you for getting it,” she hesitated, “and – for helping me earlier.”

Much to her dismay, she remembered the embarrassing situation in all its ignominious details.

Surprisingly enough Malfoy did not give a single comment in the matter. She could have been mistaken, but he seemed to be rather chagrined himself.

“Oh that – it was no big deal, ewm, I mean that’s OK,” he responded rather hastily. 

Hermione threw another tentative look at him. He was actually kind of cute when he was uncomfortable.

“Yes it was – and I’m glad that you did,” she objected, a very faint smile playing around her lips.

Malfoy did not respond to this. Instead he put her bag down at the end of the couch and took a seat in the other.

He just sat there, looking at her and Hermione started to feel truly nervous under his stare. When she thought she could stand the tension no longer, she cleared her throat. “How did it go? I mean, did anyone ask where I was?”

After some seconds of consideration Malfoy nodded, “Yes, of course, but I told them that you had to take care of some girl in your position as Head Girl,” he paused and added with an odd undertone in his voice, “McGonagall said you should turn to her, or Madam Pomfrey for help, if you could notn’t handle the situation on your own.”

Hermione flinched at this news. So he had not kept her secret. Well, it was hardly a surprise. She should have expected as much. Nonetheless it had been very tempting to imagine that she could trust him – if only for a while – and it hurt to see that she had been mistaken. “So you’ve told her, too?!” she gasped with a feeling of disappointment.

Malfoy cast her a strange look at that and repeated, “No! Like I said, I told – everyone – your absence was for reasons of Head Girl business.”

Clearly relieved, Hermione released the breath she had been holding. She was glad that Malfoy did not press the matter, but bent down and started to rummage through his own bag instead.

When he came up again, he placed a piece of parchment on the table between them.

“Here. These are today’s Potions notes. We brewed a sleeping essence. Not the Dreamless Sleep Potion, but some other – I don’t remember its name right now – but you’ll find everything important in there.”

“Ohh –” Hermione was more than a little surprised by this. Not only did he offer her his notes, he also admitted that he had been kind of unobservant in class today. And not in just any class, but Potions where no one ever dared to not pay attention.

She briefly wondered what might have kept his mind preoccupied. He had not been thinking of her, had he? Stunned she realised that she was rather flattered by the idea, but did not dare to follow that thought to its conclusion. It was too odd, too stupid, too…  

She hesitated, watching him closely she finally asked: “And did – anyone else – ask about me?”

His head snapped up at that question and his grey eyes fixed her with a calculating glance. “Well, yes. Potter tried to get you bag and he and Weasley pulled up a fight, when I refused to give it to them.”

Hermione exhaled sharply at those news. “Oh, really?”

She tried her best to appear unaffected and nonchalant, but could not avoid the traitorous quivering in her voice. If Malfoy noticed it he did not press the matter, but just nodded.

“He asked me where you were, but I told him the same as anyone else. And I didn’t give him your bag as I – Well, I thought you wouldn’t want that,” he added calmly.

Hermione stared down to her hands. She could not help that her fingers were slightly shaking and hurried to hide it from Malfoy’s view. “No,” she muttered, “you’re right about that.”

She did not fool herself about Harry’s motives. He had probably just acted that way, because he still believed that she was sleeping around with Malfoy. He had been beside himself with anger and hurt pride, when he had found him at her rooms and had not believed a thing of her explanations. No wonder he was pissed to see Malfoy with her bag now. It only seemed to prove his theories.

And what other involvement could he suppose her to have with the Slytherin? It was easily understandable that the idea she might have cheated on him drove Harry crazy.

A sudden, completely unexpected, idea crossed Hermione’s mind. The image of her and Malfoy in the nook at the Arithmancy corridor. The firm grip of his hands around her arms, the way he had pressed her against the wall when she had tried to break free and all of a sudden she wondered what the situation might have been like if Malfoy’s intentions had been –different.

She imagined him to grind his hips against hers for a different purpose and was stunned at the nervousness she felt at that idea.

So far she had not even envisaged to get involved with anyone else than Harry. Not that she intended to… especially not now… and certainly not with Malfoy of all people … it was just… that… she could not keep her thoughts from figuring what Harry had accused her of…

She remembered a very similar situation with Harry, behind a pillar by the entrance to the Great Hall, when they had got it on beneath the Invisibility Cloak. All the – quite short time it had lasted – she had been afraid to be caught, unable to relax.

Ginny did not seem to have had such difficulties when Hermione had walked in on her and Harry by the stairs.

It still pained Hermione to think of the lascivious way the other girl had wrapped her legs around Harry’s hips and had moaned his name.

The pictures and feelings of all those encounters blurred into a wave of emotions and left her in a peculiar state of sorrow, confusion and curiosity.

So what if she had done what Harry accused her of? What would it be like to make out with Malfoy like that, she wondered. Would he be just as unobservant of her needs and wishes as Harry had been? Would she feel just as lonely and – out of place, or would he…make her feel different? Could he possibly cause her to respond in the way Ginny had reacted to Harry? Was it because of Harry that she had not ever enjoyed sex that thoroughly? Or was it her fault that Harry had turned to Ginny, because his girlfriend was so cold and unfeeling? It could hardly be his fault, if Ginny liked those activities so much, could it?

And Malfoy – would he –  just as Harry – enjoy the risk of getting caught in an unlikely place? Or would he rather prefer…

Hermione suddenly flinched at the disturbing track her thoughts turned and immediately shook her head in denial. What on earth was she thinking?! Malfoy and his likings were not hers to think about. He had made perfectly clear that he did not intend to ‘ _do’_ her ever and she certainly did not want him to try anything like that. So where were these absurd ideas coming from? This was completely weird. It was stupid…ridiculous…   

All the time, she could feel Malfoy’s eyes resting on her as if he wanted to invade her mind and read her very thoughts. A disturbing idea – Hermione shuddered – she would die of shame if he could.

When she became too uncomfortable about the situation she looked up to meet his gaze.

Like earlier that day, when he had carfully placed her onto the couch, she felt a strange sensation at the intensity of his grey eyes. She swallowed, nervously wondering what he might think of her.

“You look much better,” he remarked calmly and she risked a timid smile at him. “Yes, I’m …feeling lots better, indeed.”

Much to her surprise, he returned the smile and she was stunned at the change this simple gesture did to his usually cold and arrogant appearance. This was not the nasty, smug  smirk she was used to, but a real, yet very faint smile that did not miss its effect.  

Hermione swallowed once again and frantically searched for something to say, but could not come up with a single suitable comment. While she was still sorting her confused thoughts out Malfoy got up from his seat. “Shall we return to our classes, then?” he asked and she nodded.    

OO

A scintillation of sparks sprayed up as Hermione shifted the logs in the hearth into another position to push the fire. Watching the red and orange spots dizzying down, she drew the thick material of her robes tighter around her shoulders before she returned to her working desk. She had not changed yet and still wore her school uniform with its long, black Hogwarts Robes above, but it was to no use. Despite the fire’s warmth that unfolded across the room, Hermione was freezing.

She felt quite tired and worn out, though better than in the morning. She should have probably gone down to the Great Hall for dinner she assumed, but once again she had stayed at her rooms and buried herself in her studies. It was the best – the only – way to distract her mind from unbidden thoughts and the dreadful fear that was pressuring her. 

Besides that she was determined to catch up on today’s Potions lesson.  

So she once again picked up her feather quill and continued to copy Malfoy’s notes.

It was not much, just a list of ingredients and advices Snape had written to the board and a few short comments Malfoy had added in between. Nonetheless, Hermione was relieved that the narrow, but sharp-angled flourishes were easily to decipher.   

In fact he had a pleasant handwriting. The letters were slightly shifting to the right. Clear elegant swirls, neatly set in jet-black ink.

It was no trouble copping his notes - quite in contrast to her friends’ scribbles when they had brought assignments and important notes from class to the Hospital Wing during her cat-alike time in their second year.

She had to admit that Harry’s script was much more neat and readable than Ron’s sloppy, haphazard scrawls, but it yet lacked Malfoy’s quality. 

Malfoy…

Once more she wondered what might have kept him so preoccupied in class today. Had he truly thought of her?

It was not that unlikely, after the detection he had made shortly before. Her thoughts once again drifted towards the ignominious scene at the boys’ bathroom that morning, when Malfoy had acted so completely against her expectations.

Back then, she had been so grateful for his help and for the unexpected support he had offered her. He had been there when she had been too depressed to care about anything, but her misery. He had just refused to leave and had snatched her out of her lethargy. He had actually comforted her… He…

Half muttered words echoed through her mind. ‘There, there, Granger… It’s OK … Don’t cry.’

Even now she was stunned how different his usually cold, snide and emotionless voice had sounded. He had almost seemed worried, contrite and, yes – affectionate.

She nearly snorted at the oddity of the idea, but hesitated. It might be a completely weird imagination, but it was simply the way his actions appeared to her – even now.

She leaned back in her seat and recalled the memory of what had happened in the morning, how it had felt to see her secret detected all of a sudden – detected by no other than Malfoy. She remembered her surprise when he had not used this new and delicate information against her – remembered very clearly how cautiously he had carried her back to her rooms – how warm his skin had felt when she had leaned her forehead against his neck.

He had caused her to feel very – odd. Despite all her sorrow and distress she had felt comforted and – sheltered when he had steadied her at the sink.

A sudden shudder ran down her spine when she thought of the moment his fingertips had brushed across her cheek, smoothing her hair back. It had been a gesture almost bordering to gentleness.

And – she was well aware of the irrational urge to just turn around and snuggle herself into his embrace. How fortunate that she had withstood that impulse!

She did not even dare to imagine the mockery and repulsion with which he would have reacted to such a slip.

But then, he had been very kind and understanding, so maybe he would have tolerated even that.

A sudden noise from the corridor alerted her. It was suppertime. Everyone was supposed to be at the Great Hall. So – who might be up here this late?

She just hoped it would not be a student who wanted to talk to her about some problem. She had few enthusiasm to put up with anything like that at the moment. As matters were, she was certainly fed up with problems in her life right now.

Tensely she waited for the knock that would prove her suspicions. Surprisingly enough it did not come and she already hoped the visitor, whoever they were, had changed their mind.

But when, only a moment later, the door swung open Hermione froze in her seat.

There were only two persons who knew the password to her rooms. This could either be Harry, or…

Anxiously, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder with a frown, but felt a stab of relief at the sight of her visitor. Of course Harry would not bother to check on her. Why should he?

It was Malfoy – but he did not wear his trademark smirk. In fact he looked quite… Well, she did not know what to make of the odd expression on his face. If it had not been him she might have thought he looked worried, sympathetic and – cautious. Back this morning, at the bathroom, he had looked at her like that, but there was no reason why he should do so now, or was there?

When she just stared at him without any sign of welcome or rejection, he cast her a calculating look, obviously not sure whether he should enter. “May I come in?” he asked and Hermione nodded. Putting her quill down she got up from her seat.

“Well, yes,” she told him, “do come in.”

It felt more than odd to be on such friendly terms with him all of a sudden. Hesitatingly Hermione took a few steps in Malfoy’s direction, but stopped and nervously tugged some of her hair behind her ear.

“You’ve come to collect your notes, I suppose? Wait a second, I’m nearly done. I’ll get them.” With that she turned back to her working desk to grab the parchment.

“Yes, I mean .. No. That’s not – exactly what I’ve come for. Not really…”

His uncharacteristically diffident reaction caught her off guard and alerted her at the same time. 

Curiously, she moved over towards one of the sofas, took a seat and gestured at the opposite couch where he had sat earlier this morning. “Take a seat, will you?”

He did, still not speaking. He – just looked at her. Hermione really did not know what to make of this. “So, what is it?” she finally asked, tensely.

“I – didn’t see you at dinner and I – well, I just wanted to check on you,” Malfoy exclaimed, noticeably uncomfortable.

She could not tell why, but the words caused her to feel odd, pleasantly surprised and – excited at the same time.

She barely suppressed the disbelieving ‘ _Really?_ ’ that wanted to pass her lips. A little awkwardly, she cleared her throat, “That’s – emm, nice of you, Malfoy.”

“And? How do you feel?” 

“Oh, quite well at the moment. It’s not so much of a problem in the evenings,” she explained then blushed, suddenly realising the intimacy of what they were talking about. “I mean, of course it’s a problem, but I mean, I …”

“I get the point,” he declared calmly and Hermione noticed his eyes flickering across her belly. She blushed even more at that. Instead of a comment Malfoy looked back at her face again. “Have you seen Pomfrey about it yet?”

She swallowed, merely shaking her head.

“You really should, you know?” he stated softly.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath and gazed down at her hands that nervously played with the hem of her sleeves. “I know, but – I – I don’t want them to know, I…”

She lifted her gaze back to Malfoy’s face. “I’m so glad that you didn’t tell anyone,” she finally muttered.

He did not respond to this, just looked at her and she watched how the fire shine brought reflexes of gold to his hair. It was so very blond that it was almost white, but depending on the light there was a golden glow to it.

Hermione was so deeply confused by all of this. Everything seemed to have shifted out of place. Nothing felt familiar anymore. She did not know whom to trust any longer. Friends had turned traitor on her, had hurt or abandoned her in the past few weeks, whereas Malfoy… She was not sure if she could ever consider him an enemy again. Not after the way he had treated her back this morning. As he treated her – now…

How could it be that she sat here with him and that he was so nice and understanding, while Harry –

Another stab of pain and fear clutched her heart at that thought. She was so worried, so very afraid, whenever she allowed herself to truly think about the matter. And she was confused.

“Why are you doing this, Malfoy?” she suddenly blurted out. “I mean, being so – nice – and all? Why didn’t you just tell – anyone?”

His head snapped up at that and she flinched at the anger that flashed up in his grey eyes. “Do you think I can’t be?” he snapped. “Don’t say you wanted me to tell them, Granger?! Shall I go back down to the Great Hall and tell people that you managed to get your life screwed up by everyone’s precious Wonder-boy?! You see, I left earlier, I think dinner might not be over yet and I’m sure this would make just spectacular news!”

“What?” she gasped, startled at his unexpected display of well familiar, Malfoy-ism. “No! Of course not!!”

“But that’s what you expect from me, isn’t it?!” he snapped with a bitter note in his voice. “I’m just Malfoy the Slytherin Scrum, right?! You don’t think I’m capable to care about – anything, do you?!”

Hermione just stared at him, too shocked to respond at all. After everything this day had held for her Malfoy’s outburst was the final blow.

She flinched at his harsh words and bit her lip in a furious attempt not to cry.

At the sight of her distress Malfoy’s eyes softened and she thought there was a note of regret in them before he drew his gaze away and stared to his hands. 

“I’m sorry, Granger,” he then muttered, “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, but – I’m so confounded by all of this – I…”

A few silvery-blond strands had slipped from his neatly set hair at his outburst. Raising one shaking hand, he brushed them out of his forehead. A gesture which very much reminded Hermione of Harry. 

That did it.

Slowly, but unstoppable Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes and quickly pinched the lids shut to keep them back.

The pain about Harry’s betrayal became almost overwhelming. He had done so much more than just broken up with her. He had misused her trusts, he – and Ginny…

When she opened her eyes again Malfoy was looking at her, his grey eyes mirroring his confusion. “I can very well see, why you must expect the worst of me. Really, I can.”

He drew in a deep breath.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise. But you should, Granger, for your own good. You’re not able to put up with this on your own – that’s very obvious. That whole mess is not likely to solve by itself,” he stated, but trailed off at her startled sob and added more carefully, “I’m sorry Granger, but that’s a fact. Everyone will find out quite soon. You’d better get prepared for that.”

“I know, but – I –I just don’t know – what to do – and I - I…”

“Yes, of course,” he interrupted her stammering, “but – no matter what you decide, you’ll need _help_ with this, Granger. At least see Pomfrey about it. I mean… don’t try anything… on your own, will you?”

“No! I won’t! I don’t even know how, but – even if I knew – I – don’t know if I would want to …I mean…” she trailed off, convinced that her frantic stuttering made no sense to him at all.

“That’s quite all right, Granger. There’s certainly more than one option to your – problem,” he murmured much to her surprise. “You – just mustn’t overreact and do something stupid. You… Just see Pomfrey about it. She’ll know what to do.”

As there was not much to say they both fell silent for a while and Hermione suddenly realised that the hanky she had fished from her pocket and which she so tightly clutched in her fingers, was the one Malfoy had given her in the morning. She started to cry even harder at that. She could not even tell why. 

If Malfoy noticed, he did not comment on it. In lack of anything to say, Hermione turned her gaze away and stared sulkily into the fire. The logs’ soft cracking was the only noise around. 

“And Potter, does he know?” Malfoy asked after a while. Hermione’s throat felt too tight to speak. She just managed to shake her head again.

**OO**

Draco did not know how to handle the situation. He felt quite helpless around Granger when she was in a state like this.

It was rather stressful. He pitied her, but yet, he was not sure it was just that.

Ever since she had started to cry again he had felt the urge to move over and sit down beside her to console her. It had felt good to comfort her in the morning and he wondered if she would struggle if he tried to hold her like this, now. 

Or would she possibly lean in to him like she had when he had picked her up? It had felt so strange when she had nestled against him. He – had felt strange at that. He had felt – protective – about her and he had very much liked that feeling.

“When are you planning on telling him?” he asked softly.

She just shrugged, dew in another quivering breath and covered her eyes with her hand. It could not be easy for her if he watched her crying like this.

Since he did not know what else he could do at the moment, but was unwilling to leave either, he got up from his seat and wordlessly walked towards her kitchenette.

His mother said that a cup of tea could help people to cope with emotional stress since it gave them something to do and to hold on to – something that distracted from their worries – and that the taste of sugar would enfold its own magic. And she must know, his mother had an extensive collection of teas.

Obviously Granger had a liking for it as well. Several boxes were placed on the little shelf above the oven. Without further consideration Draco just grabbed the first at hand. The easy task would win him some time to think –  and maybe, Granger calmed down in the meantime.

**OO**

The soft clattering sound of china made Hermione look up in surprise.

Confused she stared at the steaming cup of tea that was placed in front of her. She had not even realised that Malfoy had got up from his seat and she certainly had not expected that he would fix some tea for her.

Not questioning the matter any further she rubbed her eyes clean and picked up the cup to sip at the amber liquid. The very next second, though she coughed in surprise and replaced the cup rather roughly, before she broke into a fit of almost hysteric laughter.

She was sure Malfoy must think she had lost it, but this was truly ironic – it was – the last thing she had expected to taste. Willing herself to calm down she bit her lip. When she looked up she saw Malfoy raising his brows at her over the rim of his own cup. “What’s so funny?” he asked sneeringly.

“That tea!” Hermione panted, still laughing. She then turned more serious again, but nonetheless found her mood lightening at striking speeds. “See, it’s a special recipe from a book. It’s – well, never mind,” she stated, but Malfoy’s head had already snapped up at her words. With a look of horror he put the cup down. “It’s one of those recipes?!” he gasped, clearly repulsed.

This caused Hermione to frown at him. “What?!”

“Well, you’re talking of – _that_ – book? The one I saw you at the library with. ‘A Witches Weeds’, isn’t it?”

This really caught Hermione off guard. “What would you know about that book?” she asked suspiciously.

“I umm… say I checked it out in the evening, OK?” he explained reluctantly.

“You did what?!” Hermione asked, her voice sounding a little shrill to her own ears.

Malfoy cast her an irritated look and nodded into the direction of the cup. “What’s in there? You’d better tell me the full truth, I’m sure I can handle it. I’m going to lose the hairs on my chest now, aren’t I?”

Hermione rose her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Do you have any?” she shot back, rather amused by his sarcasm.

He actually opened his mouth to reply, but clapped it shut again. “You’re surprising me, Granger. I had no idea this was of interest to you,” he then smirked, raising his brows in a very Malfoy-alike way.  

This time Hermione did not know how to respond.

“I errr… It’s some kind of um pregnancy test,” she finally declared.

Malfoy pulled a disgusted face at that news. “Ugh,” he coughed, shoving the cup further away. “I can’t believe I just drank that!”

Hermione cast him an almost mischievous smile at that. “You’ll survive it,” she remarked dryly. “And don’t worry, if your pee turns purple.” She tilted her head aside, suddenly frowning. “OK, maybe you _should_ worry then!”    

Malfoy quitted this remark with an irritated snort. “You’re acting weirdly, you know that, Granger?”

“So do you,” Hermione shot back, curious of what he might say to this, but instead of a statement Malfoy just cast her a calculating look.

Suddenly stretching his posture he leaned back in his seat. “Have you eaten at all today?” he asked in quite an arrogant manner.

“Not since breakfast, no,” Hermione replied, taken by surprise at the unexpected change of topic.

“Well, that hardly counts,” he sneered and she blushed, remembering the embarrassing encounter at the bathroom.

When Malfoy got up she looked at him, questionably. “Where are you going?”

Immediately she bit her lip. This was certainly none of her business. He was probably just sick and tired of her crying. Against her expectations he smiled, though. “I don’t know how _you_ are feeling, but I could finally use some food.”

Hermione frowned at that. “Oh, but I thought you had already been down at the Great Hall earlier?”

“Well, yes,” Malfoy admitted, apparently uncomfortable. “But I also told you that I left earlier, when I couldn’t spot you anywhere. I didn’t manage to eat much so far.”

It might be the fire shine, which added a reddish glow to everything, but Hermione could have sworn Malfoy’s cheeks held a faint shade of pink all of a sudden.

Briskly he turned around to walk out of the room. “I’ll go and fetch a tray from the kitchens,” he declared.

**OO**

The sconces’ switching light flickered across the old still life painting by the kitchens, illuminating the small yellowish-green pear that actually twisted and wrinkled itself like a piece of dried fruit, before it rolled behind the heavy sliver bowl with the rest of its companions.

Draco contemplated the picture with amusement. Just as Crabbe and Goyle had told him  he had tickled the funny little fruit and an entry had appeared in the wall right beside the painting.  

So far he had never been to the kitchens himself, but had just sent his friends to pick food or sweets for them.

It was a vast room, with many stone archways that allowed a view into the next area. Countless House Elves were hustling and bustling about, preparing food, or doing the dishes.

The little creature that appeared at his entry almost got a nervous fit at the sight of him. “M-M-Master Mm-alfoy,” it stammered backing away, “i-is that you, Sir?”

Draco cast it a closer look. He was pretty much sure to have seen it before.

It wore a long, blue-white night-gown with a tiny floral pattern and a caramel-coloured pointed hat and Draco could also recognise the pair of dark-red woollen socks covering the creature’s feet.

The clothes marked the little fellow as a free House Elf, but given his reaction he apparently happened to remember Draco as well.

For a moment they stared at each other, then the tiny creature stretched his posture and asked in a businesslike tone, “What does Draco Malfoy want?”

“Well, you see,” Draco began, still taken aback, “I’ve come to pick some food.”

He was shocked to see the Elf’s lip curl into a gesture that looked strikingly like a sneer. “Does Draco Malfoy do so?” he asked challengingly, “Well, me is afraid. That’s none of mine responsibility. My advises Draco Malfoy to turn to the Great Hall. Dinner isn’t over yet. He should find everything he needs up there. If Draco Malfoy would excuse my now.”

With that the annoying little thing gave a mockery of a bow and turned to leave.

Draco could not quite believe what was happening. Never in his life had he seen any House-Elf acting like that. But then, he had never faced a free Elf before.

After Draco had recovered from first shock he took a step into the kitchens and called. “Hey, you, come back immediately!! I didn’t say you could leave!”

At that the Elf whirled around, his ridiculously big green orbs glowing with anger. “No Malfoy and his likes is to give Dobby any more orders – no more!”

And now Draco knew, why the Elf looked familiar. He now recognised him as the erstwhile servant of his father, who had warned Potter back in their second year. He was astonished how different Dobby looked now. His face and clothes were clean and no plasters or bandages were wrapped around his fingers and ears.

Suddenly a second Elf appeared. Like the impertinent little twit, she was dressed in clothes. A bright yellow blouse and dark-blue shirt marked her as another free House-Elf. But in contrast to Dobby this Elf showed a very different behaviour. Her huge brown eyes widened with shock at her fellow’s words. “How can Dobby speak like this?!” she gasped flashing him an angry glare.

She then turned around to face Draco and her face’s expression changed completely. “What does you demand, Sir?”

Draco could not help but grin at the oddity of the situation. “And you are?” he asked with amusement.

The creature’s wrinkled little face cracked into a happy smile at that. “It’s Winky, Sir,” she told him proudly. “What can we do for you?”

Draco repeated his request and Winky sprung into action. She picked up a large tray and started to place several plates and dishes onto it. “You heard the wizard, Dobby,” she called, “now go and get some of the roasted chicken, will you?”  

“But Winky,” the little fellow complained, “that’s Draco Malfoy. Dobby isn’t serving him!”

The female Elf whirled around to face him again. “But then – Really Dobby!” she frowned, “How can Dobby not be glad to do his erstwhile Master’s son a favour? Now, be a dear and help mine, will you, Dobby, do?”

Winky started to cut some pieces of bread. “It’s brand fresh, Sir. Just out of the oven,” she explained with a glance at Draco, who could not help but smile at the little creature’s eagerness and the sight of Dobby, who actually shuffled away to do as his companion had asked of him. With an unwilling look on his face, the erstwhile Elf of his father placed several more dishes on the tray.              

Draco contemplated the mixture of food. Some cold, roasted chicken, a salad of tomatoes, mozzarella and basil, some sardines, a couple of still warm puff pasties with spinach, salmon, or liver pate, a jug of pumpkin juice, a flan of caramel cream, some straw-, blue- and cranberries…

He really hoped that something of this assortment would find Granger’s approval. As a matter of fact he had no idea what she preferred. Especially now that she and her stomach were in such a delicate state.

Then an idea struck him – and if it was just to cheer her up... Following the sudden impulse, he asked, “Dobby, do you think you could possibly come up with some dill pickles?”

The House Elf’s eyes seemed to grew even wider at that. “Dill pickles?” he asked taken aback, “well, Dobby will try to…” He then folded his bony arms in front of his chest. “No,” he sniffed. “We don’t have any – and that’s a fact!” 

For once the annoying little twit seemed to have spoken the truth as even Winky shook her head. “Dobby is right there, Sir, Mar-Mr. Malfoy, Winky is afraid,” she stated, “we really ran out of them and don’t have any – no more dill pickles at the mo –”

Then her round brown eyes lit up all of a sudden. “Oh yes, we do have,” she exclaimed happily. “Wait a moment, Sir, Winky will get them – just!”

A few minutes later she returned, carrying a big glass of pickled cucumbers along. “Winky forgot about the glass she had at her chamber,” she told Draco. “It’s almost full - still, Winky only ate a couple of them, yet.”  

Dobby cast the other Elf a very odd look all of a sudden and Draco noticed that Winky nervously avoided her companion’s gaze.

“Oh Merlin, the other pasties!” she exclaimed, “Winky has to keep an eye on them!” With that she turned on her heel and hastily disappeared from their view.

After that, Dobby was even more in a hurry to get rid of Draco. Practically shoving the tray in his arms he turned around. “ _W-i-nky?!_ ” he called, following her into the back of the kitchens.

**OO**

Hermione reached for the iron cooking vessel to fill it with water at the ancient stone sink. With a frown she realised that the pot was cold. How on earth did Malfoy prepare that tea before she wondered, but shrugged the thought off after a second. He had probably conjured up hot water by a spell. It was surprise enough that Draco Pure-blooded-Malfoy, deigned himself to prepare tea for her at all. He certainly could not be bothered to do it the horrible, scandalising, primitive Muggle way. She giggled. Hell – no!

To prove her theories the oven was stone cold as well. She had to lit a fire and wait for the stove plate to heat up first.

In the meantime Hermione picked one of the boxes with tea from the shelf above. She chose _‘Earl Grey’_ , one of her favourite flavours. She just hoped Malfoy would be fine with that, too. She had no idea what kind of mixture he favoured, but after the Wee-Wee tea, he would probably appreciate any ‘ _proper_ ’ tea, she mused. Another grin slipped across her face at the memory of his shocked expression as he had realised what exactly he had just tasted. If the whole situation were not so damn serious, she could have loughed out aloud.

And his ridiculous comment about losing his chest-hair… She had never pictured him with some so far – which might be simply because of the fact that she had never pictured him in anything else than his Hogwarts, or Quidditch Robes – let alone with any less than that. But now that she tried, she had to admit that it was difficult to imagine.

Malfoy – with chest-hair?

It simply did not seem to fit. No, he was much more likely to have a bare, smooth chest, its muscles slightly defined from Quidditch practice. Not a bad image at all… and … speaking of hair … she wondered if he would be just as blond in his more private places…    

Once again she stopped her thoughts before they could run too far. She certainly had enough problems not to drool over a nude Malfoy – and be it just in her imagination. What on earth was wrong with her?! She was thinking the oddest of things lately.

Hermione still wore a subtle smile on her face when she picked two plates and new cups and carried them to the sitting area. It was a strange idea to lay the table, knowing that Malfoy would be the one she would share her meal with.

But she could not deny she was glad about his presence as weird as this might be. She actually felt better – less panicked when he was around.

It did her really well to finally have someone to talk to, even if it was just Malfoy.

If she was honest she did not know how she would have made it through the day without his help. He been really civil towards her recently, especially today, almost – nice – as far as nice and Malfoy could be used in one sentence.

After he had left, Hermione had turned straight for the bathroom to tidy up her flustered expression as good as possible. She had splashed her cheeks with cool water and had brushed her hair to become halfway smooth. Not that it really was to much use. A few strands of her stubborn masses of hair already curled around her face again. 

Just when she returned from the kitchenette, taking two sets of cutlery and the fresh infused tea along, Malfoy appeared in the doorway, levitating a large tray beside him.

_‘Of course,’_ she mentally noted with a grin. _‘Does that dimwit even know how to do anything without magic?’_

But then she noticed his eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of the neatly lain table and blushed furiously all of a sudden. What if he had not planned on staying to eat with her? He had probably just meant to bring some food along for her – for a cause that was still above her reasoning – and leave to finish his own dinner at the Great Hall. How stupid of her to think he would stay.

“I.. umm … didn’t know if you .. um wanted to eat as well… So I picked two plates and eww well,” she stammered, cursing herself for her unlucky premise.

Much to her surprise, Malfoy just looked at her without a nasty remark about her embarrassment, or the fact that she had assumed he would stay.

Nonetheless she felt horrible under his gaze and just sat on the edge of her couch.

“That’s nice of you, Granger,” he told her. “I didn’t expect you would want me around for dinner, but, I think Dobby certainly loaded the tray with enough food for both of us.”

At that Hermione’s head snapped up in surprise. “Dobby? she asked, “Did you see him? How is he?”

Malfoy just shrugged, “Well, he was quite snotty, first, if you ask me. But after that Winky figure showed up, he became a little more civil.”

“Winky,” Hermione frowned, “You’ve seen her, too? How does she cope with being a free Elf now? Does she get along?”

Malfoy cast her an odd look a that. “Do you know each and every one of those fellows down there? For all it appeared to me she gets along quite well. She pretty much bossed Dobby around, but all in all she acted like a good House-Elf should. You know, being eager to fulfil one’s every wish and such. You should have seen that Dobby. No sign of respect for a wizard. He even refused to hand me any food at all, first.”

Hermione frowned at the tone in his voice. “You can hardly blame him for that. After the way your father treated him.”

The sudden anger that flashed up in Malfoy’s eyes came as a total shock to Hermione. “Don’t judge my father,” he snapped and she was once again reminded of whom she was having her cosy little supper with.

The odds of the situation once again struck her.

Malfoy seemed to have realised her disdain as he added in a much calmer voice. “No arguing, Granger, all right? I can’t put up with any more tears from you today. You always crying is driving me crazy, honestly.”

“What makes you think you could make me cry by anything you might say?” she glared, but he just cast her another subtle glance of his stormy grey eyes. _“Experience,”_ he stated, cocky. “Believe me, I _could_.” With that he picked a piece of the still slightly warm bread and a small puff pasty and placed them onto his plate. “But – I don’t want to,” he added almost inaudible.

Hermione felt a funny lightness in her head that had nothing to do with dizziness, or the urge to cry. She did not even know what to make of his comment and yet felt odd about it.

Once again an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. 

To distract from her confusion Hermione picked up the can, but noticed that Malfoy reached for the jug with pumpkin juice instead. ‘ _Well, he’s certainly had enough tea for one day,’_ she assumed, her lips switching at the memory.

Much to her surprise Malfoy suddenly picked a peculiar object from the pocket of his robes which looked surprisingly like a miniature of Snape’s glasses with preserved toads and squids and for a moment she had the horrid expression that he had brought one of those up here to turn her stomach and have a good laugh at her.

But once he had enlarged it back to its normal size she realised her mistake and almost felt ashamed for thinking this badly of him.

“I’m not sure, but I thought you might have some use for these,” Malfoy declared a little uncomfortably before he flashed her an almost mischievous grin.

Hermione was more than a little surprised. This was not what she had expected at all. Her whole face cracked into a grin when she recognised a glass of pickled cucumbers that was placed on the desk in front of her. 

The smile they shared at her realising his little gesture, was truly genuine. 

**OO**

When Draco finally left for his rooms his mind was still centred around the messy Gryffindor. He could not really explain what had happened today, but somehow he hadn’t had much of a choice.

It was too true what he had said earlier. He was very well capable of driving her to tears. Today’s discovery had given him the most glorious possibility to pick on her, ruin her reputation and embarrass her, but it was just as true that he did not want that.

He did not know why, but the idea of telling everyone that she was pregnant had no appeal to him. He did not want to add to her worries, he did not even want to take reverence on her now that he could have it in the most thoroughly way imaginable. In fact, all he wanted was to – well – comfort her.

Once again he remembered the brief moments, when she had leaned into him in the boys’ bathroom in the morning. She seemed to have fitted so perfectly into his embrace. An idea that truly troubled him.

She was hardly supposed to fit in there. She was not even supposed to fit in this bloody school. She was nothing but a stupid Gryffindor, a Mudblood even, unworthy to study magic. She should not even be allowed to own a wand, let alone attend the same classes as he and his likes. It was what he had been brought up to believe in. Some shameful Pureblood families like the Weasleys could be accepted, even a Halfblood might pass with a little good will – the Dark Lord himself was born a Halfblood after all – but a Muggleborn, who did not have any idea of the wizarding world until she had received her Hogwarts letter - he really must not socialise with her.   

Well, he did not want to socialise with her. All he wanted to do was comfort her and…

It was not as if he planned on dating her, or something like that. He did not even lust after her. How could he if she was pale and thin like this? She had hair like a mop and if all this would not be bad enough already, she was – _pregnant_ – with Potter’s spawn.

No, there was certainly nothing about her to be attracted to, yet, he could not deny that he felt something odd about her. Something he did not want to question any further than necessary.

But he knew with a surprising clarity that whatever it was – nothing as simple as just – _pity._

Another wave of rage at Potter captured him out of the blue again.

So he did not know about her being pregnant! So he had not turned her down, like Draco had first expected it! So what?! It did not really change anything about the rage he felt.

What on earth had that crank done to her that she did not even dare to turn to him and tell him about her trouble now?! He must have treated her rather nastily, if she was afraid to even tell him. Or maybe – he had dumped her for the Weasel, before she had stood the chance?

Draco’s head was spinning with confusion. Poor Granger…

She was so miserable and troubled. He just wanted to help her through this until she would be up to handle her life on her own again. Then he could happily return to hating and taunting her, then. But not now. It just felt not right – wrong – horrid – to pick on her now, when she had no one but him to turn to.

  

**A/N:** This has turned out to be a terrible long chapter! But somehow I didn’t think it would be good to separate it into two sections. I hope you haven’t fallen asleep by now. ;)

Lots of thanks for your nice comments and kudos! It’s so good to know that you like this story.  

I purposely included a lot of hesitation and awkwardness in this instalment. I think it’s important for the development of their relationship; just as well as all those curious, calculating and tentative gazes that are exchanged between them.  

Dobby’s tries to no longer refer to himself as Dobby, but he has difficulties to use I, mine, me... correctly. I meant to show that he’s undergoing a change there. He’s more successful than Winky, but it’s still a long way to go. 

Smiles, Serpentina


	11. Odds to no ratio

The post arrived. In a loud rustling of feathers the owls swept into the Great Hall. They seemed to appear right out of the blue harvest sky – sprinkled with bits of puffy white clouds – that built its enchanted ceiling.

Like countless students around him, Draco Malfoy tilted his head back, blinking against the bright sunlight as he searched for his pet.

Soon enough he spotted the large black Eagle-Owl and watched her fold her majestic wings as she gracefully landed on the table in front of him. Unlike Pansy’s and Crabbe’s owls, who often caused a mess, Noctua had never knocked the milk jug over, nor had she ever stepped into the butter yet – a fact, Draco was entirely thankful for. With a soft hooting noise she tilted her head aside, her large yellowish eyes gleaming vividly out of the dark-brown and black fledges surrounding them.

Today a small, oblong parcel was tied to her leg, as well as a letter.

Automatically, Draco gave the owl a nibble of bacon and undid the fastenings to take the letter from her.

With a quick glance he recognised its seal as that of his father. A thick blot of emerald green wax with the imprint of two entwined serpents, forming the monogram.

Right that instant, Pansy’s owl , Ulula, landed so close to Noctua that she spread her wings with a threatening shriek. Well aware of his owl’s fickleness Draco hurriedly dropped the letter next to his plate and started soothing his annoyed pet to avoid a fight. It was not the easiest of tasks. Noctua was a real bitch – on owls standards. She did not easily tolerate other hooters close by, especially not another female.

By the time Draco and Pansy managed to separate their infuriated pets, both of them, as well as Crabbe, Goyle and the table between them were sprinkled with feathers. Blaise Zabini contemplated his toast with disgust since the red marmalade wore a top of light and dark fledges now and a couple of Noctua’s black plumes were bobbling atop the milk jug. A mixture of complaint and laughter erupted from the group and several heads turned their direction to see what the tumult was about.

At the High Table Draco could recognise McGonagall craning her neck at the source of the noise. As soon as she caught sight of him she pursed her lips and her already stern expression changed to one of pure dislike. For quite a couple of seconds she fixed him with a deadly suspicious glare while Draco – not willing to let himself become intimidated by her, held her gaze. _‘Typical,’_ he thought with annoyance, _‘what ever it is, the old hag has to expect the worst of me!’_

Only when the Professor finally continued her conversation with the Herbologie teacher Draco relaxed, focusing back on his owl.  

At that, once again, the strange oblong parcel caught his attention. It was not shaped like the usual boxes of sweets his mother send to him.

Goyle was still busy removing feathers from Pansy’s hair, while Crabbe had to pick some more out of his cereals.

Since his friends were so obviously busy, Draco decided to check on his gift. Curiously he untied the parcel’s fastenings, determined to check on its contents before he read the letter.

Atop a mass of black downs that had been added to grand the gift a save transport, the long, shimmering tail-feather of a Golden Snidget lay.

Taken by surprise Draco picked it up, contemplating the valuable Feather Quill with interest. Snidget feathers were very rare and difficult to come by these days. Since it was no especially _legal_ to breed or trade the minuscule birds, the habit of taking quicker notes by the help of a Snidget feather had become quite uncommon.

Carefully and very curious, by what he had earned such a present, Draco replaced the Quill.

Only then he turned towards the envelope with his father's precise and elegant writing on it. With a flick of his finger Draco broke the seal, unfolded the parchment and began to read.

**OO**

“Hermione?” the voice from the opposite side of the table called, “Could you hand me the jam, please?” Glancing up from the letter in her hands Hermione faced a quite uncomfortable looking Neville. Obviously he had tried to catch her attention for quite a while, without her notice.  

“What? Oh-sure, here you are,” she responded focussing on the surroundings again. For the last couple of minutes she had been completely captivated by the letter her mother had sent and her thoughts had been troubled by the suspect of having to tell her parents the most recent news.

Like usual her mother had asked about her well-being and – as she had expected – about how she did get along in her new position as Head Girl. But this time passages like:

_‘I hope you and Harry are able to spend some private time after all.’_ \- _‘Is Ginny feeling a little better by now, or is she still so easily frightened the poor dear?’_ \- as well as: ‘ _Will we see you here at home for Christmas and will you bring Harry along?’_ – were tend to discourage her. Right now her parents did not have the foggiest that she and Harry had broken up in the meantime. They knew nothing about the whole dismaying situation concerning Ginny, let alone about the rest of her troubles.

What on earth was she going to tell them?

**OO**  

_Draco,_

_I was delighted to hear of your success. Not only did your grades improve, you also put that annoying sidekick of Potter into her place – which was about time I might add. It truly pained me, during your past Hogwarts years, to find a girl of non magical inheritance as top of class in every subject instead of you. I have to admit that I had few hopes this would be any different in your final year, but fortunately you were able to surprise me._

_I suppose it was your position as Head Boy that strengthened your will and caused you to double your efforts._

_It’s no news to me that the current headmaster and most of his staff favour special students to a ridiculous amount, while they do little to encourage the others._

_But most obviously the Granger girl isn’t able to handle the duties of a Head Girl without neglecting her studies. You on the contrary are, which only proves how wrong past assessments were and how much people overestimated her talent._

_I’m very pleased to see that you finally claimed the position that suits you and I can only advise you to keep up that effort at studies. Maybe you can even top your success by beating Potter at the Quidditch Cup this year?_

_For now be sure of my approval. Keep up the excellent grades and enjoy your success._

_The arrangements for your future are moving ahead nicely. I hope to be able to introduce you to an important friend if you come home for the holidays.  
The attached package contains a special gift for you. It’s supposed to help you double your speeds at studying and remind you to speed up your efforts on the pitch. See it as an useful reward._

_I’ll hand this letter over to your mother, who wants to add some lines for you as well. Let me know if there’s anything else you wish for._

_Father_

Right beneath this the likewise elegant, but rather extending swirls of his mother were set:

_Draco, my Sweethart!_

_Like your father said, we’re very proud of you. Especially your father was thrilled by the news. He couldn’t get rid of the grin for the rest of the day. You being better than that Granger-girl means a lot to him, especially since she’s no pureblood. Well, you know what he’s like... Right now he’s glancing over my shoulder and I can literally see him roll his eyes._

_-Yes, you are, Lucius, don’t ‘nonsense’ me!-_

_-See!?-_

_Be assured that he is._

_Well – like I said, very well done, Draco! But on a more important matter; how are you, my dear? Is it exciting to be Head Boy? Do you get along well? Does it leave you any time for yourself at all? I hope it doesn’t mean too much trouble for you, now that the Quidditch season started over again. I’m holding up both of my thumbs for you to beat Harry Potter this season. I know how much it means to you, but please take care, will you? Your father and I will see if we can manage to come and see you play sometime this year. Or don’t you want us to? I’ll talk him out of it if it gets you nervous._

_By the way, did you yet decide whether you’ll come home for Christmas this year? I hope you’re not supposed to stay at the school for HB reasons! That would be rather disappointing. Anyway, have a great time and don’t practice and work too hard._

_Auntie Henny says ‘Hello’ as well. She and your father had a fight about his joy over the You-beating-Granger matter. She called him a snobbish old mule, who was spoiling your mind – which isn’t much news – although this time she didn’t speak to him for days. But you know what she’s like, too, don’t you?_

_Please tell Pansy my greetings. I met her mum at Flourish & Blotts last week._

_I’ll send you a couple of your favourite sweets with the next owl. Let us know if there’s anything else you need._

_Take care and have fun! (No need to smirk, it IS both possible!)_

_Mum_  

Draco refolded the letter, sniggering with amusement. How typical for his mother to draw such a vivid picture of what was going on at home. He could easily imagine his father and aunt arguing. She was always a little erratic when it came to Muggles and Mudbloods. A reason why neither his parents nor he usually mentioned them in her presence. As gentle a person she was she kind of lost it in special situations. She either cried or started to argue fiercely whenever the topic turned towards politics, fickle old maiden that she was. One had to watch his words around her.

It was probably because of that tragic incident in her youth that she sometimes snapped like that. Nonetheless Draco liked her a lot. She was a kind, good-hearted person and just like his mother she could be quite funny and entertaining once she managed to break through the cloud of sadness, usually surrounding her.

Once again Draco looked at the letter. His eyes switched back to the part where his mother had communicated with his father reading the lines over her shoulder. How typical of her to tease them both while writing. Just like Grauntie Henny she could be funny, almost mischievous at times. For a brief moment Draco felt an intense longing to be home at the Manor and around his family.

Besides this, there was an itching feeling of uneasiness in his guts. Quite unconsciously his eyes drifted across the hall towards the Gryffindor House Table, where a certain bushy haired know-it-all was seated.

She was not looking his way. Her head was bent over a letter as well. He wondered whether it might be a note from her parents and if so, if she had told them about her pregnancy and break-up with the-boy-who-shouldn’t-have-lived. It surprised him that she received notes from her people at home at all. He’d had no idea that Muggles were able to owl. But maybe it was a note from another witch, or – his jaw clenched – Potter.

A flash of madness hit him at that idea and his mind literally screamed that Potter should not have the right to write or talk to her – ever again.

Shocked about the amount of fury and outrage he felt, Draco gasped for air. His eyes narrowed to small slits as he scanned the row of heads at the Gryffs’ table until he spotted the black haired boy, who was the bane of his existence ever since they had started at Hogwarts.

His hair was as untidy as ever, an impression that only improved as he brushed through it and pushed the glasses that kept sliding down his nose back up.

He seemed to be rather amused by something one of his housemates had said. Laughing he turned towards the male Weasley who pretended to strangle him. Probably the best idea that doofus had ever had, if it only would not be fake.

The careless merit of the situation made Draco immediately wonder of what H- Granger might feel to be left out like this. _‘She-who-usually-participated-in-the fuzz-about-Potter-and –used-to-be-at-his-side-at-every-single-one-of-the-stupid adventures-they-had-gotten-themselves-into-over-the-past-six-years.’_

And now his black-haired nemesis was flanked by a read-headed Weasley to each of his sides.

They were all laughing and having a good time, which made Draco not only want to kill Potter for what and why he was, but first of all for having a good time without Her- well, her.

Just then Potter, seemingly aware of being watched, looked over at the Slytherin Table and his eyes widened in alarm at the hatred and charge directed at him.

But being the arrogant dunderhead that he was, Potter did not break the contact, but glared back at Draco instead. 

They stared at each other for a minute, before the Weasellette said something causing him take his eyes away to kiss her.  
Disgusted by the sight of this, Draco focussed his eyes back on Granger instead.

He was relieved to see that she had not witnessed that little scene. He somehow doubted that she would have taken it well. 

Apparently she had been reading the entire time and only just now she looked up from her letter to talk to Longbottom and pass him a glass of jam as well as an encouraging smile.

After a brief moment, though, her eyes lowered towards the parchment again. She seemed to be rather preoccupied by something in there.   

Draco scanned the text of his own letter once again and this time his eyes were fixed on the lines the topic was on her - and - in a very un-malfoy-ish way he felt guilty for taking the praise. He was well aware of the fact that he had not rightfully earned it, but unlike former times this bothered him quite a lot.

When he cast another tentative glance in He-Granger’s direction, he noticed that she had risen from her seat and was now heading for the exit. Her posture was very tense and her features stern. She looked kind of troubled. 

Without much reasoning, he followed. Whatever this was about, he should better check on her.

OO

He caught up with her somewhere between the second and third floor. Since they had left so early, no one else was around. 

“Granger! Hey Granger, wait up!” he called and she spun around with a frown, “Malfoy!” she gasped, taking the handrail for support, “What is it?”

She looked pale, he noticed – and upset.

Unbidden images of her cowering in the cubicle the day before came rushing to his mind and made him wonder whether she was feeling ill again.

She actually waited till he had reached her, before she continued climbing up the stairs, but Draco could tell from way her posture tensed that she wasn’t quite comfortable around him.

For some reason this bothered or rather annoyed him and his first impulse was to snap at her, but after a moment of consideration he merely shrugged, not entirely sure what to tell her.

He had not exactly planned this. He had just... acted out of impulse, when he had seen her leaving the Great Hall. Maybe it was because of the somewhat undeserved praise he had just received, but he had somehow meant to make sure she was all right.

“Well, I have Arithmancy next,” he drawled casually, watching her reaction closely.

Her frown of suspicion deepened at those words. “So have I,” she remarked, tensely. “So what? I mean… I don’t understand… I thought you’d said I didn’t have to do your homework anymore, I…”

“Shhttt,” he hissed, startled, immediately checking the corridor behind them for unbidden witnesses. “Don’t blurt out about that matter like this, Granger! I thought it was your own interest to keep some secrets between the two of us.”

Draco could not help but enjoy her puzzlement. “See? That’s the spirit of it,” he began nonchalantly, but ruined it all by adding:  “Since we have the same way anyway... I just thought, we… umm … I mean, it’s OK with you, if I join you, isn’t it? Or do you want me to uum… leave you… alone?”

Once he had spoken he inwardly cringed at his babbling. This – was horrible. It crashed rather badly with his reputation and it… yes, it almost sounded as if he tried to hit on her. He had not meant it – _that_ – way. He could not help but blush at the idea. She certainly would not think that he… Hell, NO!

Granger on the contrary did not seem to be bothered by his choice of words. To his utter surprise her tense features eased into a diffident smile and her pale cheeks got the ghost of a colour. “Oh, yes… Yes, it is! You just – startled me, that’s all.”

“Didn’t mean to,” Draco remarked calmly as they continued walking up the long flight of stairs. “Anyway,” he added quickly, before she could question his motives any further, “You look rather um – _bad_ – you know?”

This time it was on her to look puzzled. She took in a rather sharp breath and he noticed, much to his dismay that he must have unintentionally sneered at his statement.

Obviously she had gotten him wrong. He wanted to tell her he had not meant to taunt, or insult her, but given the way he had put his foot into it by adding further explanations just a minute ago, he kept his mouth shut.

They fell silent, simply continuing their way upstairs, but Draco noticed that her posture had tensed again and that some of the old alertness had returned to her eyes. Since he had not anything else to say, he merely continued his way, looking straight ahead.  

OO

It was close to the seventh corridor when Granger started to slow down.

Expecting her to fall back for a purpose Draco stopped in his tracks as well, but when he turned to face her he found her in a rather distressed state. Her fingers tightly wound around the handrail, her face expressing exhaustion, she tried to keep up with him.

Despite the rushed rather laboured breathing her cheeks were – _very_ – pale again; not as ashen as they had been the other day at the bathroom, but quite – and a faint film of sweat covered her forehead.

“Is everything all right? You aren’t going to be sick again, are you?” he asked, unable to hide the horror in his voice. The thought of Granger being thick right in front of him, was not at all a comfortable one.  

She took in a sharp breath and flinched as if he had tried to hit her. She then, bit her lip, looking awkward once again. “No... just … a little out of breath,” she stammered, “ … it’s nothing…I... It’s nothing...really.”

Draco cast another cautious side glance at her, not feeling convinced at all. She did not look too good to him. Most obviously climbing up all these stairs really got to her.

“Hand me your bag,” he commanded, much to his own surprise. His voice sounded strange to his own eyes. 

Her head snapped up at the offer. “What? No! W-why…”

“Hand it to me,” he repeated, slightly annoyed by her constant habit of questioning his motives. Now that he had made the offer, he would not allow her to drive him away. 

“But it’s really not necessary. I can carry it on my own, I...”

“Yes, I _see,_ Granger. You’re the most tough person in the universe. Now give it _here,_ we don’t want our Head Girl to throw her breakfast up and herself down the stairs in the process, do we?” he immediately regretted the sharp remark as well as the smirk, when he noticed her glare at him.

“Do you have to constantly remind me of… of… you know…?” she snapped, but trailed off rather miserably.

“I just mean to help you… So will you give it to me? _Please -_ ” he added more softly than he had planned the words to sound. Her-Granger seemed to be just as surprised. He halfway expected more arguing from her, but with a very odd look at him, she did as he had asked of her.

Relieved to have handled the situation without getting into another fight, Draco flung her bag’s strap across his shoulder, just like he had done the other day. And just like then he was surprised how heavy it was.

“For heaven’s sake, Granger, what are you carrying around in there?! 25 runes sets and a spare cauldron?” he mocked.

Instead of an answer she just glared at him.

OO

Once they entered the classroom, Granger headed straight for the window. In a rather rushed movement she opened one of the smaller parts in the rhombic-shaped pattern of blue and clear glass, leaning forward and for a split second Draco had the bizarre idea that she was about to throw herself right outside of it.

The very next moment he dismissed the thought, though and almost cracked into a smile about the oddity of his idea. He was truly getting paranoid about her trying to harm herself. Was it because of the guilt he felt about pressuring her in the most unfitting of times, he wondered. But when he had first thought anything along these lines, the other day when she had hurriedly disappeared into the bathroom, he had not even known about the whole nature of her troubles.

So where did that irrational worry come from and why was he feeling so bad about it? Truth to be told her situation was bad, but it certainly was not _that_ terrible. Besides, this was _Granger_ , for crying out loud Gryffindor’s mastermind and McGonagall’s pride and joy. The very same know-it-all who had been rewarded 50 points for _‘using cool logic in the face of fire’_ in their first year – she was all sense and consideration – she would _never_ do anything like that!   

He was convinced that she would be laughing right into his face if she were to find out about his ridiculous, completely unsuitable worries, or wouldn’t she?

OO

Warm golden sunlight floated into the room once she had opened the window and a mild wind ruffled her hair when she leaned forward to have a look outside. Instead of throwing herself to death she merely leaned forward to expose her pale but somewhat pretty face to the mild October sun. She had her eyes closed and took in several deep breaths, inhaling the soft, earthy smell of harvest that filled the air.

He wondered when she had been outside the last time – _really outside,_ for her own entertainment, not for any classes like Care Of Magical Creatures or Flying – for he had neither seen her at Hogsmeade nor anywhere at the grounds recently.

When she felt him watching her she turned around, leaning against the windowsill for support, her hands in a somewhat awkward position hidden behind her back, clasping the windowsill’s edge for support.

The slight breeze moved some strands of her honey-brown hair so that they where dancing around her head in an dizzying, irregular way and inwardly she reached up to catch and smooth them with one hand. An attempt which was to no use at all. Just that irritating pair of doe-brown eyes was fixed on his, questionably.   

Only then Draco grew aware of the fact that he was still standing in mid the room with the straps of both of their bags across his shoulders, staring at her.

**OO**

Hermione could not say she was comfortable about the whole situation. 

As grateful as she was for Malfoy’s unexpected and completely uncharacteristic support, she just did not know what to make of his behaviour. 

In a way she was always on alert, always expecting some kind of trap and she was all the more confused to find none.

To bring her flurried thoughts and emotions under some sort of control she had turned towards the window, pretending to take a look at the grounds. She had not really seen a thing going on down there, with her mind so busy figuring out Malfoy and his possible strategies. Even the soft smell of the spicy harvest air and the feel of the mild sun had not been able to calm her nerves and distract her thoughts from the one topic racing around in her mind.

Malfoy and the whole oddity of his behaviour of late.

And finding him standing in mid the room staring at her, when she turned around, did not really help the matter.

What was he staring at? Did she have anything funny to look at?

_‘Well, not yet. But you might have soon enough. In only a few months time you might be the big joke of Hogwarts,’_ the annoying little voice in her mind cackled.

But somehow she doubted that this was what Malfoy’s stare was about.

If she only knew what kind of thoughts whirled around behind those silvery eyes... For a couple of seconds neither of them spoke nor made a move at all and Hermione, afraid that he might read the torment of confusion in her eyes, simply avoided his gaze.

“Thank you,” she muttered, reaching for her bag, “that was umm – nice of you, Malfoy.”

He quitted her words with a slight nod of his head.

“You’re welcome, Granger,” he simply stated. Ignoring her outstretched hand, he placed her bag onto her table and turned around. Seemingly unaffected by her disconcert he crossed the room towards his own seat and flung himself on top of his table, from where he continued to look at her. 

Since it was so early still neither Professor Vector, nor their fellow students had appeared yet. Nonetheless a constant murmur and the sound of  hundreds of  feet moving along the halls downstairs told them that breakfast had ended. Soon enough the first of their classmates would arrive up here.

As she did not know what to do or say to pass the remaining time Hermione started to unpack her things. Soon enough her Arithmancy book and homework as well as a fresh roll of parchment, ink-bottle and quill were neatly placed in front of her.  

She pretended to read through her assignment once again, but was not really into it. Like before she could literally sense Malfoy’s gaze in her back and it got her really nervous.

When he finally spoke, she flinched with surprise. “Your bag, is it usually this heavy?” he asked.

**OO**

“That’s no good,” Draco declared at her perplexed nod. “Are you sure you need all those things? I mean it’s not exactly helping the situation, if you try to carry along all of your belongings at a time.”

She once again looked at him as if she was not sure what to think of him and just like earlier, her eyes quickly flicked away before he could even try to figure out what she was thinking.  

“Well, I _need_ all these things, you see?” she finally sighed. “It’s mostly books for class and some more for background reading. I need to make up for the delay.”

“I’m sorry about that, Granger,” Draco muttered, feeling quite guilty once again. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“ _You?_ ” she didn’t even try to hide the suspicion in her voice.

“Yes. _ME_!,” he stated, stubbornly, annoyed by the fact that she still doubted his every motive.

For all it looked like she was not at all convinced that he did not mean any harm to her.

Her whole posture tensed and her back straightened. “I don’t want you to pity me!” she rasped quite gratingly.

“I’m not doing that! That’s not what this is about!” he bit back just as harshly.

She narrowed her eyes, now fully looking at him, suspicion written all over her face. “What is it about then?!”

“Well, it’s partly my fault that you failed some tasks – with me pressuring you to do my homework and stuff. I – shouldn’t have done that.”

Her eyebrows rose in suspicion and she looked at him for a full minute before she spoke again. “Why? You _never_ had any second thoughts mocking or tormenting me before? So why now? Excuse me, Malfoy, but I just don’t get this!”

“You can be the most annoying person on earth at times, Granger! Can’t you just accept that I’m sorry?!”

She contemplated him for another couple of seconds. “All right,” she replied, tensely, “but I still don’t want you to pity me.”

“I’m not, Granger, don’t you get it?!” Draco pressed back through gritted teeth.

“Well, of course I think that Potter is an arse and…” he added more calmly, but was cut off by her startled gasp.

“Shtt,” she hissed, immediately checking the door for unbidden witnesses.  

Draco quitted her alertness with a mere snort. “That’s hardly surprising news to anyone, Granger,” he sneered. “Believe me, no one will become suspicious at hearing me say what I’ve said all along.”

Much to his relief some of the tension left her face and he even meant to notice her lips switching into the slightest of smiles.

_“See?_ ” Draco remarked rather sarcastic and was rewarded by another spark of amusement in her eyes.

He got off his table and crossed the room to lean against the table in the row beside hers.

“But honestly,” he added in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, “It’s not just that. I really – _despise_ – him for treating you like that! I mean, if he had treated you a little more decently, you would have told him, even if he’s with someone else now, wouldn’t you?”

At her startled flinch his voice softened even more. Leaning forward he touched her shoulder. “Hey, Granger, I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re all right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s OK. It’s just that H-Harry …he didn’t pick just any girl, but Ginny. She was supposed to be my best friend and … And …I found out about it in a rather bad way.”

At his bewildered look she blurted out: “I walked in on them cheating on me, OK?! Don’t stare at me like that, Malfoy! What do you want me to do, give you all the bloody details!?”

He eyed her thoughtfully for a couple of seconds before he added: “Not unless you want to talk about it. But I think it’s not the best of times for that kind of conversation right now, anyway. The others might arrive any moment. How about you tell me more in the evening?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” she repeated stubbornly, folding her arms defensively in front of her chest. 

“Whatever you say.” In a somewhat frustrated movement he let go of her shoulder. “I do not pity you, Granger, don’t you get it?!”

He trailed off, thinking over his motives, before he added more calmly: “Let’s just say that I regret adding to your troubles when you least needed it and – and that I really wish to make things a little easier for you.”

Completely thunderstruck she stared at him, words failing her.

Draco drew in a deep breath, but when he finally spoke his statement sounded alien to his own ears even, however closely he had thought them over in his mind.

“So if… If you really need all those books for classes and studying at the library as you say – how about you handing some of your stuff to me?”

Granger blinked with surprise. “ _What!?”_ she gasped, but Draco was not willing to back off now.

“See, I could bring your books along for those classes we have in common, for instance… and you probably better hand me those others tomes you think you can’t live without as well,” he suggested, calmly. 

**OO**

Now in October nights had become chilly and since dusk had already conquered the later hours of day, people had moved their business to indoor activities in the evenings.

To games of chess, or quiet conversations by the fireside, hours of studying at the library and there like. The common rooms were more crowded and noisy than only a month ago and gossip started to bloom in its brightest harvest colours.

This was partly because of the fact that the couples who had been out on several dates during the warmer late summer evenings were banned to the castle now. There were no more moonlight strolls and secret snogging in the grounds now that temperature had decreased so much. On the other hand did those couples amiss cause all the more suspicions now.

Some students were assembled in little groups, playing Exploding Snap, or just talking and joking. Other heads were bowed over scrolls of parchment in silence.

And just as darkness fell, lights sprang up all over the castle, filling Hogwarts’ windows with soft and brighter shine. Magical and common luminance were tracing long paths of light across the front lawn to meet with those emerging Hagrid’s hut.

In those parts, with fewer or no lights the castle’s huge, majestic shadow hovered over the grounds and left most of the shrubs and trees by the greenhouses hidden in darkness; an effect that only added to the cosiness inside.

The moon was already up and her pale misty glow shone down on the ancient building.

Hermione made no attempt to switch on the sconces. Just pale bluish moonlight illuminated her room and brought out deeper shades of blue in the thick, velvety bed hangings.

Hermione did not mind the dimness. It suited her mood and made it easier to make up her mind. Silent and unmoving she sat on her bed and thoughtfully contemplated the neatly-folded piece of cloths in her hand. It was of soft white linen, with just a stripe of green on the rim and had a likewise green monogram.

She sighed. It was half past seven and Malfoy had not shown up yet. Hermione wondered if he had been serious about what he had said in the morning. Both, him offering to carry her books as well as his suggestion to come to her rooms this evening were simply blow-out-of-the-watering. 

Did he really plan to listen to her lamentable babbling about broken trust and friendship, or did he just seek for information to hold over her head?

Immediately she dismissed the thought with a snort. He certainly had any information he needed to make her life at Hogwarts living hell and yet, he had not done a thing of that sort.

So far he had not done anything but help her and she had done little to thank him. In fact she had been arguing most of the time, questioning his motives and intentions – or crying.

It was no wonder that he had finally quitted his attempts to help her. He probably preferred more cheerful company.

She wondered if he had been held up by something, Quidditch practice, homework of some matters concerning his Head Boy duties. At that thought, Hermione bit her lip, well aware of how badly she had neglected her own duties recently. She had let Malfoy take almost all of the work alone. That was not at all acceptable in her opinion.  

Tomorrow she would try to get a grip on herself. She would work twice as hard to make up for the delay at her studies as well as to fulfil her amount of responsibility as Head Girl. And she would try to be a little more appreciative to Malfoy’s help. It was not at all fair of her to constantly expect the worst of him. He must be quite sick of her constant arguing. She knew she was behaving bitchy these days. He must be pretty annoyed by her constant attempts to put up a fight.

‘ _Can’t you just accept that I’m sorry_ ’ he’d said.

Well, couldn’t she? She was a real fool to scare off the only ally she had in this mess.

Why didn’t he come? Had he mistaken her saying she did not want to talk about Harry and Ginny’s betrayal for a refusal to talk to him at all? She had not meant it that way. Actually she had felt lots better the evening before – less alone and less frightened and she had been glad about the prospect to spend another evening in his company. She had even considered telling him about Ginny…

And now that he did not come, she was disappointed.

She did not quite dare to go over to his rooms and tell him that she had made up her mind and now wanted to talk to him, indeed. She once again contemplated the handkerchief he had given her the day before. 

She had cleaned and ironed it by magic and had carried it in her bag all day, waiting for an opportunity to give it back to him, but somehow she had not managed to find the right moment. Maybe she should do it now?

It was pitying that she craved his compassion so much, but she was so desperate and hungered so much for some comfort and company.

Never before had she felt so lonely and scared in her life and she had never expected to be isolated from her friends like this.

Of course, Parvati, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Neville and the others still talked to her, but they treated her differently now. Almost as if it was a tricky kind of thing to face her and they seemingly watched their every word for fear she might snap at the mention of Harry. Their meaningful and curious glances, whenever Harry and Ginny entered the room were quite annoying and had the opposite, but the intended effect. She was all the more reminded of her misery.

What none of them knew, though, was that the _real_ cause of her misery was not the break-up alone. Both, Harry’s, but mostly Ginny’s betrayal nagged at her badly. She still could not believe how that could have happened. Maybe this was part of the reason she was so suspicious about Malfoy’s motives to help her. Too fresh was the memory of someone she trusted failing her.

Several times she had caught Ginny’s eye in the corridors, but the red-haired girl had quickly looked away as if she were not able to look Hermione in the eye.

Hermione only hoped the other girl spent a real miserable time since she obviously felt guilty at what she had done.

Just Harry had not looked at her once… since their break-up… He solved the matter by completely ignoring her, but his sharp and spiteful last words still rang in Hermione’s ears. _‘You’re hardly in any position to judge me – Hermione! Just go, continue to spread your legs for Malfoy! Don’t forget about your little – bargain – ’_  

Was this what people believed of her? Everyone treated her so differently now. Was this just because they did not know how to handle her? Or did Harry spread rumours about her – and Malfoy – to justify his own actions, maybe? 

Especially Ron and Lavender were a complete disappointment to Hermione. They acted as if they barely knew her, limited their notice of her to simple nods and a short exchange of _‘Hello’_ in the hallways. She would have expected more of her friend in a situation like this. She certainly did not blame him for his sister’s behaviour. So why did he act as if he barely knew her all of a sudden? Did Harry tell him… of what he believed she was doing with… Malfoy?

At this Hermione put her head in her hands, groaning.

What a mess! Where ever her thoughts wandered, they always came back to _him._ And now she was even waiting for him to come and see her so that she could talk to him about her troubles.

The more she thought about it, the more she longed to talk to him, to get some of the pressure off her chest. It was just too much to carry it all alone. And so far he had been so nice and understanding. Talking to him would make her feel better, she was convinced of it.

She just knew one thing for sure. She would _not_ tell him about the part concerning – him – _ever_. She would die of embarrassment if he knew… what Harry accused her … them of…

Instantly she froze. Was _this_ what all his support and friendliness was about!?

Had he already heard of the rumours and was he now trying to get back at Harry by making him believe that he had been right about his suspicions? Did he just put up with her so Harry – people – would think … the rumour of her cheating on Harry with – Malfoy – was true? It made perfect sense. It was the perfect revenge on both of them.                          

Slowly Hermione’s hands, clutching the hanky, sunk. She trembled. It could not be true. She simply would not bear another betrayal. 

And just when she thought she could possibly really trust him…

Did Malfoy use her as a pawn in his revenge on Harry? Was this – really – all what his care and friendliness were about?

She paled, feeling utterly tired and robbed off illusion all of a sudden. Without undressing herself, Hermione curled up on her bed and hid her face in the pillows. And just as the first teardrops fell, she realised how very much she hoped to be wrong.

OO

Next day it was Potions. Hermione, who arrived early, was one of the first people in the classroom.

Since she was not in the mood to chat with Dean and Seamus – the only Gryffindors who had yet arrived at the houses least favourite class – and did not really look forward to make an attempt at befriending the group of Slytherin girls at the other side of the room either, she merely nodded a quick ‘ _Hi’_ at her housemates’ and headed straight for her seat.

Unpacking her things she quickly realised that today’s lesson was the first to put Malfoy’s trustworthiness to the test. What a lucky coincidence!

She was convinced that especially Snape of all people would be _SO_ understanding if he caught her without a book.

With no one to talk to she had no choice, but listen to the whispered guessing around.

Uncomfortably she waited for the lesson to begin – or rather – for Malfoy’s arrival. She would truly prefer not to face Snape without her potions equipment complete first. Besides that she was surprised how comfortable she felt around Malfoy lately.

One by one her classmates arrived and Hermione was aware of the mixture of voices gossiping. Obviously her absence had not been unnoticed the other day.

Only a few minutes later Malfoy arrived at the dungeons as well.

She was so relieved to see him that she completely forgot about the suspicions that had crossed her mind the night before. Before she could think better of it, she had already beamed at him, relief written all over her face. 

“There you are!”

Malfoy’s pale brows rose in surprise at her words. He looked truly confounded for a couple of seconds. His eyes mirrored an assortment of emotions as he returned the smile; surprise – joy – confusion – and finally – suspiciousness. She even meant to sense a note of – disappointment in the silvery-grey depths.

But before she could even consider asking what bothered him, the impression passed and his face went blank again, not giving away a single of his thoughts. “Ah yes,” he commented nonchalantly, “the book, of course. I brought it along. Don’t worry.”

Hermione meant to _explain_ , to tell him that she had not thought of the book at all at her welcome, but Malfoy’s silvery-blond head had already disappeared beneath the table. She heard him rummaging through his bag for a couple of seconds.

When he sat up again, his cheeks were slightly pink and some strands of his hair had fallen across his eyes.

With a gesture so familiar to her and yet so different from Harry’s motions, Malfoy brushed the hair back. It was a casual motion, a movement barely thought of and yet so charming.

Like before Hermione found herself comparing the two unalike boys. But this time she could not understand why she had been so much reminded of Harry at Malfoy’s gesture the other day. The way Malfoy brushed his hair back was a completely different one than Harry’s. Malfoy’s every movement seemed to be filled with utter gracefulness and natural nonchalance.

Besides that there was something dishonest in the way Harry brushed back his hair, or pushed his glasses back up his nose. It was not just the casual gesture it had once been, but served a different purpose now. Hermione was almost convinced that it was – at least partly – a calculated move – that it was somehow – well, for show. A welcomed opportunity to expose the legendary scar he had hated so much once. It was now an opportunity to show off.

When had this changed, Hermione mused. She could not tell. Somewhere in-between, without her notice, the kind-hearted, compassionate and non-selfish friend she had fallen in love with had lost himself in the web of danger, grief, mistrust and hero-worshiping around him.

She might have been able to prevent it, had she only noticed it sooner.

And Malfoy? When – how – had he grown sense and – more importantly – a heart, for he obviously had some now?

At this Hermione’s _‘express of thoughts derailed’_! Was it normal to compare them like this, she wondered! And most of all:  What was it that caused the alteration of her judgement?

Right then Malfoy caught her attention again.

Wordlessly he placed her book on the table.

Their gazes met as she reached for it.

“Thanks,” she muttered a little shyly, perfectly well aware of the curious stares of their classmates. It was one thing to act on friendly terms with Malfoy when they were all alone, but it was some different matter to feel people staring at them. 

Apparently he was no more comfortable about the situation than she was. “You’re welcome,” he told her with the slightest of smiles and she just had to return the little gesture.

Once again their eyes met and she was surprised at how odd she felt. Warmth seemed to spread from the pit of her stomach and made her feel all wriggly. 

Quickly, before she could make a fool of herself, she turned towards her bag. “Oh wait… I still have your notes from last class…” she mumbled, hastily grabbing the parchment. 

“Of course! Yes. I almost forgot…” was his likewise hasty reply.

“Here you are…”

“Thanks…”

“You’re welcome…”

Instead of the former whispering stunned silence filled the dungeon now.

Therefore everyone noticed the black-haired boy’s spiteful comment as he stopped by their table, glaring at her.

“Whatever you did to make him do the donkey work for you, Hermione, I’m not sure if I’d like to know. And am I right, did he just carry your books? How touching!”

She trembled. It was the first time that he took any notice in her since… since … their break-up. And the first time, since she knew about their inadvertently yet persistent connection…

Looking up she met his eyes – a blazing green fire –flashing furiously.

“Yes? What is it? Anything you want to tell me, Hermione?” Harry asked with false cheerfulness. “I’m always eager to hear a delightful tale.”

“Hey Harry, leave it, will you?” Ron muttered uncomfortably, but neither Harry nor Hermione paid any attention to him.

Everyone in the dungeon was openly looking their way now not even trying to hide their curiosity.

“You…You. You’ve – _so_ – no idea what you’re talking about!” Hermione hissed

“No, apparently not! You putting it about for little favours is the last thing I’d have expected!” Harry remarked snidely.

Within a split second, Hermione was on he feet, dashing forward. Her fists clenched so tightly that she felt her nails’ imprint in her palms, she narrowed her eyes at him, a sudden anger rushing over her.

“You…You’re the one to judge me! You better tip your own nose – or – whatever…You…”

A calming hand was placed at her forearm.

“Granger-”

Confused, Hermione turned her head to look straight into a pair of cool grey eyes, only that there was no malice, but sympathy reflected in them. She was so stunned by this that she almost forgot about Harry’s presence – but just almost.

Malfoy, who seemed to have sensed her inner struggling and distress, increased the pressure on her arm. “Don’t mind him,” he whispered urging her back towards their table. “He’s a git – come.”

“But…” she complained, not willing to back away like an intimidated little girl.

Softly, but determinedly Malfoy’s pressure on her arm increased once more. “Come.”

**OO**

She was very pale.

It was high time to get her out of here. Since, unfortunately, leaving the dungeon was not an option getting her away from Potter had to do. Therefore he merely continued to drag her away- towards their table.

They had almost made it, when Potter’s tauntingly sweet voice caused her to stop in her tracks once again.

“Oh, is Mr. Pure-blooded smart-ass afraid to lose his idle little petty to my charm again?” he mocked.

The first thing that came to Draco’s mind was that he’d had no clue Potter had to _charm_ the girls, but since he did not want to rush into a fight with him right now he bit his lip to breath calmly, before he answered.

“If there’s anything you want to talk to me about, Potter, feel free to do so, but leave her _the hell_ out of this.”

Ignoring the surprised gasps of their classmates, Draco turned his back on Potter. Concerned he checked on Granger, who looked positively green by now. He only hoped she would not get sick in the middle of this mess.

Before he could think twice of it he had already leaned forward, rubbing her shoulder, awkwardly. 

“He only tries to provoke you,” he whispered, so just she could hear him. “Don’t give him the satisfaction to see his comments hit home. It’s just what he wants, Granger. So come, let’s head back for our seats. Snape will arrive any second now anyway.”

**OO**

Even back in their seats Malfoy did not stop talking to her. “Did you work out the notes from last class? What do you think, Snape will have us brew today? ”

Slowly some of the stress dissolved and Hermione’s breathing calmed again. Nonetheless her thoughts were still whirling around in a haze. 

“I’ve no idea, I … Polyjuice Potion maybe …, but no that would cause a much too long time to simmer… maybe it’s not that brewage then, or…” she babbled, thankful for his attempt to distract her and pass the time. For a couple of minutes they discussed several possible options for potions to brew and slowly Hermione’s wrath and distress dissolved.

Despite Malfoy’s attempts to distract her, she was well aware of the persistent curios glances of the people in their back and of the excited whispers which informed later arriving students of what had just happened.

She could tell from Malfoy’s tense posture that he did not enjoy the situation one bit more than she did. It was a very uncomfortable atmosphere and so Hermione was relived when Snape finally entered the classroom, putting an end to their torment.

Everyone turned their heads towards the front of the classroom as the lesson was to begin. 

**OO**

Draco carefully reduced the fire before he poured some more mice-milk into the cauldron.

On Snape’s accord they were preparing _‘Shape-shifting Potion’_ today – an essence that made the drinkers’ appearance switch into several different shapes of themselves. It had been developed to make it easier to hide or escape in disguise. Not unlike Polyjuice Potion, only that it was a hair of oneself that was added to the final brewage to bring out all the different shapes a person had in them. Everything they were, or could be.

It was not an easy concoction to brew at all and therefore he tried his best to focus his attention wholly and alone on the task at hand.

Nonetheless he was aware of the fact that Granger was still trembling. Potter’s insults and provocation had really upset her.

And who could blame her – really?

It had cost Draco an extraordinary amount of discipline not to mix into their fight, but simply lead her away. His every muscle had ached to fling himself at the nasty Gryffindor. He would have loved to interfere bodily, or at least give him a good hex, but as tempting as the imagination of punching Potter’s nose was, it would not have been of any help to Her- Gran- well to her. She would have been only more upset, especially if he had accidentally slipped some information in the rush of the argument.

It was more important to keep her out of this than to allow his wrath to take over, but it had cost him a great deal of self control to act all calm and unaffected at the outside, while he was inwardly boiling with rage.

How _dare_ that git insulting her like this?! But he would make him pay, he just had to think of it with a calm mind. 

Luckily Granger had taken his advice to just ignore the jerk.

But Draco had felt her shaking when he had led her towards their table and for a moment he had been afraid she might burst into tears.

He could not tell why, but he did not like the idea of Potter seeing her in a state like that.

He had been relieved to see her scowl at Potter instead. Apparently she was a lot more tough and stubborn than he had given her credit for.

Nonetheless Draco was worried that she might once again burn herself at the cauldron, or get injured in another way while she was still excited like this. Therefore he watched her closely as she now added the mixture of powdered yew-needles and dried bats’ liver to the softly bubbling potion.

Ten minutes before the end of class, Snape got up from behind his desk. “Well then,” he demanded. “It is about time to see, the results of your – _attempts_ – ”

At this he slowed down his steps and his dark eyes flicked briefly across Longbottom, who literally shrunk in his seat. With a disgusted look into the boy’s cauldron as well as a displeased snarl, the professor continued his way between the rows of tables.

“And in case that anyone managed to get satisfying results – I am sure we are all eager to see the potion tested.” 

**OO**

In the seat beside her Hermione heard Malfoy catch his breath. “Oh Shit!” he muttered almost inaudible.

“What is it?” she asked in a hushed voice. Leaning forward to nervously glance into the cauldron. “What’s it, Malfoy?! Is there anything wrong with the potion? It looks just fine to me.”

“Exactly,” he whispered back. “Snape’s not likely to make someone test an incorrect brewage.”

“So what? I don’t understand… the problem…” Hermione stammered, but Malfoy cut her off.  

“You - _can’t_ \- drink that!” he whispered urgently, just as Snape stopped in front of their table. “And he… _Hermione_ , he doesn’t know…”

**A/N:** Here's chapter 11 for you. I hope you enjoyed it, too. Thank you for your lovely feedback! Please, drop me some more! ;)

Some of the information about Snidgets is taken from **_‘Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them’ _**a comic relief book referring to the Harry Potter series:

_‘The Golden Snidget is an extremely rare, protected species of bird. Completely round, with a very long, thin beak and glistering, jewel-like red eyes, the Golden Snidget is an extremely fast flier that can change direction with uncanny speed and skill, owing to the rotational joints of its wings. The Golden Snidget’s feathers and eyes are so highly prized that it was not at one time in danger of being hunted to extinction by wizards. The danger was recognised in time and the species protected, the most notable factor being the substitution of the Golden Snitch for the Snidget in the game of Quidditch. Snidget sanctuaries exist world wide.’ (Page 39, ll 5 to 15)_

Another comic relief called **_‘QUIDDITCH Through The Ages’_** gives information about the Snidget’s role in the development of Quidditch.

Smiles, Serpentina


	12. First and Foremost Intentions

Draco's mind was racing violently. He had to come up with something – anything – and quickly at that. He knew it would be pointless to argue once Snape had ordered her to test the potion. The only way to prevent a disaster would be telling the truth and that was hardly an option – in mid of class, with Potter and everyone else around.

So what else was he to do?

There was just one alternative to get away without betraying her secret, as much as he disliked – despised – the idea and the embarrassment and humiliation that might come along with it. Considering the bouncing ferret incident in fourth year, Draco expected some very bad situations to come. Nonetheless there was not much else he could do.

In the seat beside him Granger had become all tense with shock as realisation drew in to her, too. The twists and switches of size and shape were a most likely unpleasant experience at best and not at all what a pregnant woman should endure. The possible harm was incalculable.

Draco bit his lip. He knew she had not made up her mind about the pregnancy yet. But even _if_ she decided to take termination potion, it was no option for her to miscarry in mid of Potions class. He could not allow this to happen.

With a cautious side glance he checked on her and in the short moment their eyes met he could clearly sense all the uncertainness she felt. She was afraid, startled by the prospect of having to reveal her secret and – the realisation struck him like a blow – she saw _him_ as an ally in this. It was the sudden feeling of conspiracy and the silent plea for help in the doe-brown eyes that made up his mind.

After she had questioned his every attempt to help her in the past days, observing his every action with cautious, leery eyes, she eventually – _finally_ – trusted him and he would not let her down. Oh no! Now that he had her trust he would prove himself worthy of it, even if it meant…

He swallowed, closing his eyes as sudden realisation struck him. Even if it meant to turn into a screeching, bouncing ferret once again – in front of Potter and every once else – he would do it for her. Oh – _damn_ – this was much more serious than he had realised before!

In the meantime Snape had approached their desk and was currently staring down on her, his dark eyes glittering unreadable. It was most obvious that he had chosen her to be the unlucky person to test the potion. There was no time to ponder now. A split second before the professor could actually tell her to test the brewage, Draco raised his hand, keeping his face as blank as possible to hide his worry.

"I'd like to volunteer, Sir," he said.

A hushed murmur rose amongst their classmates at his words, but died away just as quickly when Snape dismissed the noise with an unwilling shake of his head. Focussing on the blond boy in front of him his brows rose in suspicion.

" _Indeed,_ Mr. Malfoy? How very _intriguing_."

"Yes, Sir," Draco assured him, without giving away how very urgent the matter was to him. "I've heard much about the Shape-Shifting Potion and – I'd like to see its effects for myself."

In the seat beside him Draco could feel Her-Granger tense, anxiously waiting for Snape's decision. The professor contemplated them thoughtfully for a couple of seconds and Draco already dreaded that he would turn his offer down. How on earth was he supposed to keep her out of trouble then?

Maybe if he just knocked the cauldron over? It would get him in detention up to the end of term, or cost Slytherin half of its House Points at best, so much was for sure, but somehow getting on the wrong side of Snape did not seem _that_ important anymore. Not if a matter as serious as this was concerned. When he could bear the tension no longer, Draco searched for their professor's gaze.

"Sir?" he requested anxiously.

There was an amount of amusement and suspicion in the onyx depths that Draco could not quite fathom. Apparently the Head of Slytherin was surprised by the eagerness that showed itself in a mixture of nervousness and worry in the Head Boy's gaze and drew his own conclusions about the unlikely behaviour. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Snape nodded in agreement.

_"Most_ intriguing, Mr. Malfoy," he declared thoughtfully. "Well then, since you supply so _charitably_ , you may test the potion."

With a feeling of utter relief Draco released his breath. Once again he searched for Granger's gaze, who gave him the tiniest hint of a smile to express her thankfulness. Draco's heart was beating madly with joy – he could not even tell why, but somehow it meant so much to him to see some of the worry and tenseness leaving her features and before he even considered his action he returned the smile, fully and genuine, happy and proud to have managed keeping her save.

Much to his delight her mood lightened even further and her doe-brown eyes were lit with golden highlights as she returned the smile. For a moment he forgot all about their curious classmates surrounding them and just held her gaze, then Snape's rile voice brought him back to reality.

"Most intriguing, indeed," he sneered.

"Miss Granger," he addressed the once again startled looking girl, "since Mr. Malfoy has been so generous to – _volunteer_ – do you think you could – _at least_ – report on the theoretical background?”

It took her only a brief moment to collect herself, her cheeks reddening, she sat up straight. "Of course, Sir," she responded with a trace of her usual stubbornness.

The professor's brows rose in mock surprise at this statement and once again his black eyes searched for Draco's reaction.

"Of course?" he mimicked, "if I am not mistaken you have gotten a little – _behind_ – lately. Isn't that correct, Miss Granger?"

"No, Professor that is correct, but I have been working rather hard to make up for the delay."

At this some snorts and nasty sniggering rose amongst the students, but quickly died away at the professor's angry glare.

"Silence!" he snarled. "I will not tolerate such behaviour in my class. Everyone who speaks out of line will face an utmost unpleasant _detention._ "

After this no further sound was heard. Satisfied with the result Snape turned to face her again.

"Well then, Miss Granger, let us test your knowledge."

Draco's blood boiled with rage. It was all Potter's fault! His baleful remark about her ' _whore-ing around for little favours_ ' was what had caused these dimwits to imply her to have done something improper. How dare they?! But at least Snape had put them in their places.

Worriedly Draco fixed his gaze on her again to see how she coped with this. She swallowed, drawing herself together the best she could.

"The Shape-Shifting Potion was invented to allow magical people to disguise within a different shape of themselves," she began rather shakily. With a quick side glance she checked on him and for an instant he thought she meant to reassure herself that he would not mind. Even now, after he had told her that he did not insist on the matter anymore, she was hesitating to give a correct answer in class. A prang of guilt hit him at the idea and he felt awfully bad at the memory of his blackmailing. How could he have done a thing as awful as that? With the intend to apologise he looked at her and with a slight nod he passed her a – what he supposed to be – reassuring smile.

At this a very peculiar change went through her. Drawing in a deep breath, her posture straightened. The nervous, unsure expression left her features and her voice grew louder and more steady.

Draco blinked in surprise as he watched that curious change taking place. He somehow doubted that the first conclusion he had drawn was the right one. He no longer supposed her to be afraid of his possible reaction to her correct response. She did not look afraid of him – she rather…Well, she rather appeared less nervous at Snape's pressuring demand to prove her knowledge, and more self-confident because of him! It was almost as if his simple gesture, his mere presence had a calming effect on her.

The realisation had a flattering and very thrilling effect on his mood and therefore his smile even widened as he noticed how – with every word – she regained her usual self-confidence. The quivering tone in her voice ebbed away as steadily as the smile crept over her lips. And for once Draco was relieved to hear the erstwhile despised note of know-it-all-ness in it.

"It comes in handy for spying tasks or on a flight. A person's enemies would loose track of them soon enough, even if they walked right past them. Someone who's looking for a middle-aged bearded man for instance, would neither pay attention to a small boy who played in the alley, nor would they keep up with a straying cat, or an owl," she explained now almost her old self again and Draco could literally _'hear'_ the smile in her voice now.

Her gaze still fixed on his she continued: "The potion whatsoever won't change the first and foremost intention, nor the person's character. Therefore the drinker will be able to accomplish their task even if it might slightly differ in how exactly this aim is achieved. A grown man's way of actions in the disguise of a small child would appear odd and might cause too much suspicion, something the person in disguise would want to avoid at all costs. Therefore the way of actions adjusts to the current form of the drinker, remaining true to their original intention. The Animagus form, as one possible shape a magical person can take is a special case…"

"That's quite enough, Miss Granger," Snape called and Draco could not help but admire her for her extending amount of knowledge – and about such a rare potion at that. She must have researched the matter in great detail, but of course Snape would not bother to honour her attempts, he never did. Draco's brow furrowed. Not that he had ever minded before, but…He could not help it – for some reason the immense injustice enraged him all of a sudden – but before he could ponder the matter any further Snape turned to face him.

"Now let us see what kind of shapes Mr. Malfoy will take and how he will keep bound to his first and foremost intentions through the various disguises."

With that he added two pinches of a pale ivory powder to the brewage.

"These additional ingredients will allow me to interfere at my will. One is meant to quicken the effects of Shape-Shifting, the other puts me in possession to end the spectacle at my demand. Are you prepared, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes Sir," Draco muttered, a growing feeling of uneasiness twisting his stomach. He just hoped he would not turn into something embarrassing, or make a fool out of himself through his actions. He wondered if he could be sent to Azkaban for taking the shape of a full grown Death Eater and Avada Kevadra Potter's ass. He also very much hoped that he would not end up hugging the Head Girl in mid of Potions class, as he realised with disturbing clearness that he very much wanted to do just that!

But there was no ducking out now. For a moment their gazes locked and Draco saw his worries reflected in her eyes before he tilted his head back to take the potion.

At first nothing happened, except for a funny tickling sensation in the pit of his stomach. He blinked a few times – then his eyes shut against the dizziness.

**OO**

Hermione's eyes widened, disbelievingly. Draco Malfoy was gone. At least the Draco Malfoy she knew.

And she could not even tell how it had happened. Just a second ago his eyes had been fixed on hers – they still were, just as worried as they had been a few seconds ago – but now they appeared much wider and more surprised she had ever seen them. Not to mention that they looked up at her from a place that was a great deal lower than before. Hermione blinked, but the strange sight did not change. From the seat beside her, from the very same spot where Malfoy had sat just a moment ago, a small fair-haired boy about three or four years looked at her.

His hair was just as neat and smooth, though not quite as icy-blond as Teenage-Malfoy's was. The soft warm shining golden strands surrounded his head like a helmet. It was a very strange idea that this small, sweet looking boy was – Malfoy. Feeling kind of funny, Hermione could not help but stare.

While she still wondered if Malfoy's eyes had really had that taking trace of blue before, or if it was just an effect of the greyish-blue children-robes reflecting in them, Litte-Draco flashed her a bright, angelic smile. The funny feeling even increased at that and Hermione forthwith retuned the gesture.

"Hello Draco," she smiled kindly. It seemed unthinkable wrong to call such a little boy by his last name.

"Hello Hermione," the child responded gleefully and for a moment she was surprised that this childhood self of Malfoy would know her, but then she remembered that the Shape-Shifting Potion had not _de-aged_ him in the common way. It had merely disguised his real self in a different shape and even if his way of actions suited those of a child now, he still had the same knowledge and memories and would follow the same intentions the real Draco Malfoy had.

Her second impulse was to worry if this different way of actions would still imply him keeping his promise, or if Little-Draco might possibly blurt out about her secret just to get back at Harry. Because getting back at Harry – Hermione had no doubt about it – was the utter-foremostest-of-foremost intentions Draco Malfoy could have, no matter which age he was.

She'd better not overestimate her luck.

"Draco-," Hermione began carefully, but just that instant the class seemed to have overcome its state of surprise. All around little whispers, murmurs and sniggering rose amongst their so far utter speechless companions. Distracted the little boy turned around to check on his surroundings, until, well until his gaze fell on Harry.

Hermione held her breath watching Draco closely. From one second to the other the curious, wondrous expression left his features to make room for utter disapproval and annoyance.

"Too bad he didn't turn into a ferret this time," Dean Thomas muttered and he and Seamus burst with laughter at the memory electrifying several of their friends in the process.

Draco still stared at them, silent and unmoving, but Hermione could tell from the way his shoulders tensed that he was furious.

True to his usual unjust manner Snape focussed on the Gryffindor side only, ignoring any other noise in the room.

"Mr. Thomas, Mr. Finnegan, it's a detention for both of you for speaking out of turn and it's ten points off Gryffindor, _each_!"

"Oh _no_ ," Ron moaned, "not – _again_! If we lose any more points, even a Quidditch match can't save us. That's a disaster!"

"One more word and it'll be thirty points off, Mr. Weasley!" Snape called with false cheerfulness.

Like the rest of her Housemates, Hermione gasped at the unfairness, when a half muttered comment from the seat behind caught her attention.

"Quidditch?!" Crabbe – or was it Goyle – murmured with an undoubtedly trace of irony.

"I wouldn't bet on that if _you_ take part in it, Weasel-King, so much is for sure!"

Despite the rage she felt, Hermione was rather amused by this unexpected display of sarcasm. Her lips slightly switching, she craned her neck to look at the speaker – Crabbe, she realised – whose thick eyebrows rose in surprise as their gazes met, but before she could get lost in any feeling of affinity, Hermione caught a death glare from Pansy and quickly turned away. The pair of green eyes she faced did not look any more friendly, though.

"Hah," Harry snorted bitterly, "I bet SHE doesn't mind in the slightest, traitorous little turncoat she has become! Look, she can hardly bit back a grin! I shall be dammed if she and her new allies haven't planned this! What a bitch!"

"OK. Not a problem at all, Potter, be dammed…" Goyle muttered dryly and Hermione's smile developed into a wide grin. They were fun, those two. Who would have thought?

Draco on the other hand did not seem to take Harry's words too well.

"Take that back, you dork!" he yelled and Hermione flinched at the strong words to pass the little boy's lips, but had hardly time to wonder whether it was Draco the child or Draco the – well, Malfoy, who had chosen those words.

"Mr. Malfoy calm down!" Snape commanded, although it was obvious that the addressed was way too outraged to listen. Instead of calming, he buried his arms up to his elbows into two nearest jugs, and grabbed as many pieces as he could hold to throw them at Harry. His little face was glowing with anger.

"I hate you! I HATE you! I hate YOU!!" he howled.

Within a matter of seconds hell broke lose at the Potions dungeon and not even Snape's enraged snarls to remain seated were tend to cut through the spectacle. Screeching students jumped out of their seats in order to avoid the showers of nuts and slimy seaweeds that pattered down on them. "Auuh," Ron yelled when a couple of nuts hit his side and fore-arm as he tried to shield himself.

"Malfoy, stop that shit, or I swear I'll…Auuh!!"

"I hate YOU, too!" Draco yelled back at the red-head. "You and your idle little nasty of a sister!"

"Draco!" Hermione gasped warningly, once again shocked by the little boy's forward way of speech, but even more afraid he might blurt out about her secret.

"Draco, don't," she called. "Stop that! STOP!!" She tried to catch his hands, but he wriggled from her grip and jumped to his feet, knocking over some jugs near the edge of the table in the process. Within a split second the space between the Slytherin and Gryffindor rows was splattered with greyish-brown pieces of dried bats-liver and bouncing fir cones.

Surprisingly enough Snape did not make the slightest attempt to stop the spectacle. Even it meant a possible waste of stock he obviously valued the sight of Harry ducking under flurries of ingredients more than the objects themselves. Hermione even meant to detect the switch of amusement around his lips and under the current circumstances she almost felt sympathy for the least favoured teacher.

All the while Draco continued to blindly grab ingredients out of the various pots in front them, including a couple of slimy potted houseless slugs from the slicing board and started throwing them with all his might at the dark-haired, despised enemy.

"I hate you!!" he screeched on the brick of shedding tears of fury. Acting like a true four old version of himself he spiralled right into a major tantrum, unable to match the _'elder'_ boy's snide sarcasm. "I ha-ha-hate youu-u!" he sobbed.

"THAT feeling is mutual," Harry growled, ducking behind Ron's back to avoid a new cascade of objects, hurled in his direction. But much to his bad luck, Ron had dived more quickly this time. With a noisy thud one of the thick black slimy slugs hit Harry right in the forehead.

At his outraged yell of fury everyone around, including the little blond, fell dead silent, staring at ‘ _the boy-who-had-a-gruesome-ingredient-on-his-face’._

For a moment the potted slug remained in the same spot it had hit him, then – almost in slow motion – it slid down his cheek, leaving a long, gibbering trace of slime behind. For another couple of seconds the two boys just stared at each other. Then the black-haired leaped to his feet.

"Just you wait, insufferable little brat!" he yelled jumping forward, his eyes a blazing green fire. "You vile little bastard, you did that on purpose!" he snapped stating the obvious.

Once again the class around erupted with laughter. But now Draco seemed to have lost his self-assurance. With a fearful look at the _'elder'_ boy he backed away and when Harry took another step in his direction, Little-Draco did not waste any time to turn on his heel and climb into Hermione's lap, clutching her robes to hide his face within.

The class – almost hysterical by now – howled with laughter. But Hermione just hugged the little boy and her eyes narrowed to small slits as Harry approached them. "Don't you DARE hurting him, Harry!" she hissed.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy return to your seats." Snape's angry voice cut through the argument, startling them and while Harry reluctantly followed the command, Draco only shook his head, clutching Hermione's robes tighter.

"Enough of that. Get down, to your feet, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape demanded more urgently. Hermione swallowed at the tumult of emotion that cut through her. She could feel Draco was afraid. Nervously he pressed himself against her, his little hands grabbing her sleeves even tighter. He was trembling. Shyly he glanced up at the intimidating image of the evil tempered professor towering above them.

“Uncle Severus?”

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape began once again, "Draco! If you won't come down this instant…"

"Sir, please," Hermione interrupted with a frown, "he's afraid."

All the Gryffindors and even some of the Slytherins were howling with laughter by now.

"Nonsense," the professor snarled unwillingly. But he seemed to hesitate, if even for a moment.

"Miss Parkinson!" he suddenly barked, causing Draco and Hermione to flinch likewise. "Who told you that you could leave your seat?! Five points from Slytherin! Merlin's beard, has everyone around gone mad!"

It was only then, Hermione noticed the dark-haired Slytherin girl squatting next to her chair with the intent to lure Draco down from Hermione's lap.

"Draco," she purred, honeying her every word. "Draco, Deary, it's me, Pansy. Come here Sweetie, you needn't stay with that Mud-mug-gleborn."

Much to Hermione's delight, Draco did not move one bit.

"Miss Parkinson, back to your seat! AT ONCE! Miss Granger put Mr. Malfoy down right – NOW!"

"But Sir…"Hermione began once again, but then simply ignored the teacher. "Draco," she whispered softly. "Draco listen, Harry has returned to his seat. Professor Snape told him so and he did. He won't come back to hurt you. But we have to follow Snape's orders as well. We'll get in trouble if we go against them. Do you understand?"

Very hesitantly Draco nodded. "Yes, I know, but he looks so – angry…"

"Yes, I know, Hermione sighed, "he always does, but it's OK, really."

At that Draco lifted his head to look at her. "R-Really?" he asked doubtfully and she nodded. Very reluctantly Draco finally played along.

"O-OK," he muttered rather shakily and slid down from her knees. His feet had barely touched the ground when, Snape's spell hit him.

OO

Within a second – so quickly that she did not notice the transformation, the image of the little boy was gone and Hermione was facing a very different shape of Draco Malfoy, instead. At first sight it looked like a very big dog, but when she gave it a closer look, her eyes widened with shock. This – was no dog, she realised. It was a wolf!

His fur was of shiny silvery-white colour, matching his human appearance, just the eyes were not grey, but amber as he looked at her. In spite of Snape's softly muttered advice to remain seated and calm Hermione, who was closest to the wolf, jumped to her feet, well aware of the fact that this was probably the worst movement she could have made, but she simply could not suppress the impulse. Much to her surprise the wolf did not snap at her but turned his head into the direction of the door.

Quite in contrast to the earlier encounter the class was dead silent. Almost paralysed with fear. It was no fun to face a fully grown wolf in the narrow space of the Potions dungeon, even if it was one of their classmates in disguise. Who could tell how much his first and foremost intentions suited those of his human form?

And if they did?

Hermione drew in a sharp breath and cast a fearful side glance at the person whose table was positioned between Draco and the doorway – Harry. What would Wolf-Draco's way of actions be? Cheating bastard or not, she'd rather not see Draco getting on his throat – well, at least not – not literally!

As if in response to her conclusions the silvery wolf crossed the classroom with two or three great leaps and stopped – right in front of Harry. His fur was standing on end as he bared his teeth, growling deep in his throat.

Hermione's heart froze with fear. This – was serious! Either Draco or Harry would be hurt – badly and she could not tell which was worse. She must not allow this to happen.

"No!" she yelled just as the silvery-white wolf ducked, preparing to attack and before she even realised what she was doing, Hermione jumped forward – her wand drawn.

Startled by her interference, Draco-the-wolf stopped in his tracks to stare at her.

By now Harry and Ron had likewise jumped to their feet and so – like countless times before the three of them stood together as one, prepared to fight. For a split second, Hermione meant to see a mixture of surprise and respect reflected in Harry's eyes. Then the green depths were clouded by dislike once again.

"Afraid I might hurt your lap-dog!?" he sneered. He was frightened, she noticed and his voice was slightly quivering, but he still had to rub his vileness into her face.

All this had happened in less than a heartbeat and before either of them could cast as much as a single spell, Snape removed the dangerous image of Draco's Animagus self with a flick of his wand.

OO

Once again the change of shape took place so quickly Hermione could not have said how it had come to pass. Instead of the infuriated, growling wolf, thirsting for a go at Harry's throat, a noble looking wizard with long and sleek silvery-blond hair appeared in mid the tumult.

Hermione was not the only one to gasp at the sight of him. For a moment she was absolutely sure to face Lucius Malfoy as the tall, dark-robed figure resembled the despised wizard in great detail. But after the first shock dissolved she took notice of various details that made her realise her mistake. The imposing wizard's features did indeed resemble Lucius Malfoy, but after more careful contemplation Hermione recognised several little differences that made his appearance unmistakably – Draco.

This differing shape of him was an aristocratic, quite arrogant, but handsome looking wizard in his late thirties. Self-esteem and authority seemed to be radiating out of his every pore. The effect was only increased by the material and cut of his robes and clothing which were of clear, elegant and undoubtedly valuable design. Traditional wizards wear, tastefully combined in accordance with current fashion. Anthracite slacks, a matching waistcoat in some lighter note of anthracite in combination with a fashionable steel-blue shirt of classy, timeless design. Instead of a tie he wore a dark-blue silk cloth loosely wound to a plastron. The outfit was completed by swish cut black robes woven of cashmere and silk.

While the class, including Snape, was still struggling to overcome their state of surprise, the peculiar visitor ached an arrogant eyebrow at Harry who stood, his wand in hand, rooted to the spot.

"Unsophisticated brat!" Draco sneered and without a further glance he turned his back at the agitated looking boy to cross the classroom with carefully measured strides.

Hermione bit her lip as she nervously watched this older shape of Draco approaching her. Even if she knew it was _him_ , she could not get over the fact how very much he looked like his father. What if his attitude and character would match those of Lucius Malfoy as much as his appearance did?

Did she have to fear for her safety, or would he treat her with as much kindness and consideration as he used to treat her – nowadays?

Tensely her fingers clutched tighter around the wand she still held. But then, this was still _Draco_. He had been actually likeable and kind lately, she had to admit as much.

_'First and foremost intentions,_ ' she reminded herself over and over again. _'He won't change his aspire and spirits just because he looks different. He's Draco, I don't have to fear him. He's Draco... Draco...'_

Then he had reached her. Utter silence settled over the class as he stopped right in front of her. Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats not to miss one bit of the interplay to come.

Hermione vaguely noted Pansy Parkinson was craning her neck for a better view, then, the very moment her eyes met Draco's she creased to care for anything else around.

Without any haste he sized her, his gaze utterly neutral. Not even the slightest hint of emotion was betraying his mood. He just looked at her without a single word. Nonetheless she was completely unable to focus on anything but his eyes. Why was she affected by his behaviour like this? It was completely unexpected and slightly frightening.

She briefly wondered if he used some kind of magic on her to bind her gaze so intensely to his. Maybe that was why she felt so strange all of a sudden. She could not even tell why, but she felt just as wriggly and excited as she felt in those very last moments before she entered the classroom for an examination. She felt the same peculiar mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

Then – finally – a hint of delectation showed on his features as if the confusion he sensed from her was tend to amuse him.

"You won't need that," he muttered, taking her wand from her hand.

Even his voice seemed to have filled out. Though it was unmistakeably Draco's it had another quality of silkiness now and – Hermione would not have deemed it possible – an even greater amount of superciliousness. Surprisingly enough she was not offended by his behaviour. Quite in contrast, she was rather enthralled by the note of amusement and fondness now displaying in his eyes.

His eyes – Hermione swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat – held the same appealing trace of blue she had detected in his childhood self's. Why hadn't she ever noticed this before? Had she ever taken the time to truly look into his eyes so far, she wondered. Probably not. But then, he had hardly given her any reason to look at him with anything but ill will and disgust so far.

She almost laughed at the realisation of how much that had changed over the past few days!

In response to this, Draco's lips formed into a real, heartfelt smile that ripped his features of all their arrogance.

"I didn't intend to harm – _you_ ," he told her in a soft voice that involuntarily made her shiver.

She vaguely noticed that he placed her wand on the table beside them and gently took her elbows so that her forearms rested on his. His grip was firm, but gentle and Hermione meant to feel the heat radiating from his palms.

"Draco?" she uttered questionably and slightly worried by the turn of events, when his arms already slipped round her back, drawing her closer.

"Hermione…" he whispered fondly and only a second later his lips were covering hers.

Despite the explicit softness the contact was hot and smouldering in its intensity and the first flavour Hermione felt was entrancement – a wave of utter shock and electricity ripping through her, that made her gasp in surprise.

But the slight opening of her lips only caused Draco to deepen the kiss and after a moment of consummating surprise, Hermione was captured by the wondrous sensations of warmth and bliss which caused her to unvoluntary respond to the kiss. Just as unconsciously her arms slid up to his shoulders to tightly fling around his neck. With a sharp gasp of surprise, Draco intensified the kiss, drawing her closer. She was now in full length pressed against his body and her head was spinning in confusion at how much she liked the feeling.

Draco seemed to likewise value the touch.

"Hermione…" he breathed, the softly exhaled air brushing across her face, causing her to open her eyes, she had not even realised to have shut so far. But now that she did, the full impact of his sight hit her. Draco's features mirrored her own emotions – the same beguile and enchantment she felt.

His eyes were closed as if to intensify the feel of his lips exploring hers, his facial expression was open, tender and sensitive and since she had leaned back to focus on his features, his lips tried to clasp hers in vain, what gave him a breathtakingly amount of vulnerability. Then the bluish-grey eyes flung open to focus on hers once again.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath at the eye contact. She had never been looked at like that.

"Hermione," Draco muttered adoringly, "Hermione, I… "

OO

"Finite Incantatem!" Snape bellowed, hurriedly ending the scene with a flick of his wand, before it could progress any worse.

Hermione gasped at the wriggling sensation that ran over her as the Draco in her arms shifted back to his true shape again. For a moment neither of them moved, then the bluish-grey eyes widened in shock and an intense shade of pink crept into the usually pale cheeks. From one second to the other Draco jumped backwards, leaving Hermione with an odd feeling of regret.

Not a single sound was heard from the class around until Parvati's shocked gasp broke the silence, her voice sounding slightly shrilly in her excitement.

"I can't _believe_ it! _Lavender_ , did you see that? He kissed her, he actually _kissed_ her!"

"Erww yes, we _did_ see that!" Ron pressed out instead of his utter shocked girlfriend, who still gawked at the couple.

A likewise _'thrilled'_ comment from the other direction built the Slytherin part in the discussion.

"E-rrrww, who would have thought his first and foremost intention was to snog the Mudblood! What a weirdo!" Blaise Zabini's voice rose above those of his companions.

**OO**

Arduous and utmost slowly Draco grew aware of his surroundings and of the worrisome fact that he had just made a mess out of his reputation – and a complete fool of himself – at best. This was no benevolent at all. But then – Potter, Draco realised with smug satisfaction, just stared at – her. For once the git he was dead silent and deathly pale with rage and shock. Well, if that was not a good thing to start with!

Nonetheless the situation was far from being comfortable. As much as Draco enjoyed to be the centre of interest at other times – right now he could have easily done without it.

For another couple of seconds he stood in mid the tumult of excited voices and laughter, his face glowing with awkwardness and though he was truly worried about Hermione, he was yet completely unable to look at her. The moments dwelled on to turn into what appeared to be the longest minute of his life. He almost wished for Snape to intervener, but – surprisingly enough – he did not.

Then – _finally_ – the ringing of the bell put him out of his misery!

Now that he was free to escape the disturbing situation, he did not waste any time. Without a further glance at the cause of his misery, he wordlessly picked up her book, shrunk her cauldron and put them into his bag.

"Mr. Malfoy, that's Miss Granger's equipment." Snape stated thunderstruck, obviously still shaken by the events.

"I know!" Draco pressed out, grabbed his own belongings along with hers and rushed into the direction of the exit.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her following him, but right now he was in no condition to deal with her. His cheeks still burning with embarrassment and confusion he left, before Snape or anyone else could ask questions he had no answers to.

Nonetheless he already knew he would not get away this easily. Though the professor gave no comment at their exit Draco felt his calculating black eyes following them.

**A/N:** Thanks for following this fiction. Your feedback is truly cheering me up!

Smiles, Serpentina


	13. He just did it to piss off Potter

The last Hermione heard was Snape’s angry command at Dean and Seamus to clean up the mess. At other times she would have felt sorry for her Housemates, but – right now she was much too troubled to care.

Flustered, confused, and embarrassed she had no other intention but to escape the horrible situation before anyone could ask her questions she had no answers to.

Therefore she hurriedly brushed past the groups of students whose curious glances were fixed on her – Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.

Once Hermione had slipped out into the corridor Parvati made an attempt to talk to her. Stepping forward her erstwhile roommate reached for her wrist. “Hermione… what was…?” She did not sound curious, but rather confused and almost – worried. But all Hermione’s mind was centred on at the moment was getting out of this mess. She needed to calm down and sort out this mess before she could give any explanation – even to herself.

“Not now, Parvati,” she pressed out, without slowing her steps down. “I’m sorry…but….I… can’t…”

A look of disappointment crossed the dark-haired girl’s face. Her arm dropping to her side she stepped back to let Hermione pass.

In the distance Hermione could see Malfoy’s blond head disappear round the corner to hurry up the stairs that lead to the Entrance Hall. Bowing her head to avoid everyone’s eyes Hermione moved along. All around her people were discussing what had just happened in the Potions dungeon, their excited voices ringing in her ears. If the news kept up spreading with such speed they would have passed all through the castle before the end of lunch break. Some comments stood out against the mass of murmuring and laughter. A gruff voice, Hermione recognised as Goyle’s, was muttering somewhat comfortingly: “Calm down, Pansy. Don’t be so upset. He just did it to piss off Potter, I’m sure of that.”

“Do you really think so?” the rather shrilly and worried sounding response reached Hermione’s ear.

“Possibly,” Crabbe mixed into the discussion, “Yes, yes, what else he would pull up such a stand for? On the other hand – did the two of you take in how intensely he _snogged_ her? He looked completely – well, I mean you could think he truly _fancied_ her. Trashy little mudblood freak that she is. Yuck!”

Hermione’s head was swimming with confusion as she brushed past them, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“…and in the end…” Crabbe continued, oblivious to the Slytherin girl’s distress. “…I really thought he’d confess his never dying love for her. It was creepy, really, how he looked at her and called her by her _first name_ and all that stuff…”

Another gasp from Pansy cut him short, followed by an angry growl of Goyle, who worriedly checked on her.

“Thanks lots for reminding us,” he growled angrily. “SHUT UP, moron!”

The rest of their discussion was lost to Hermione as she hurriedly climbed the flight of stairs that lead towards the Entrance Hall.

OO

She did not join the flood of students who headed for the Great Hall for lunch – the mere whiff of spaghetti and meatballs she caught in passing added to the stress which troubled her already upset stomach – but continued to climb up the stairs, ignoring the curious glances of people surrounding her.

She doubted there were many things that could worsen her current situation, but emptying her stomach in mid the crowded Entrance Hall probably was.

Therefore Hermione did not waste any time to flee upstairs – if she would only reach her rooms in time...

It was around the second floor, when she realised that due to her panicked flight she had almost caught up on Draco.

Since she did not want to make him believe she was following him she slowed her steps down to put more space between the two of them.

She needed to sort out her thoughts before she was able to face him again but on the other hand she wanted to avoid being caught up by any students who finished lunch break early at all costs. Nervously she considered her options.

Just then her eyes fell on the perfect hideout. Gratefully Hermione slipped into the calm safety of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Determined to just stay in there until no students would be roaming the corridors anymore, she did not switch the lights on as she shakily walked over towards the nearest window to have a look at the grounds. Maybe this would take some stress off her.

For a moment Hermione pressed her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes, determinant to calm her still pondering heartbeat and troubled stomach. The calm and somewhat dimly lit atmosphere did her well and ever so slowly the shakiness and sickness dissolved.

Right that instant a heavy blow of sleety-rain hit the window and caused her to open her eyes again. Rain pattered steadily against the glass, running down the smooth surface in torments.

Staring into the cloudy-grey sky, Hermione watched the heavy gusts of rain and sleety weather that swept around the castle. Hogwarts was almost drowning beneath the masses of rain that poured down with furious blows and darkened the old sandstone walls with moisture.

The grounds were deep and slippery and the constant downpour of cold rain made the scenery no more pleasant.

Right then her gaze fell on a group of students returning from the greenhouses. Huddled beneath their cloaks they hurried up the stairs that lead up to the castle.

In spite of anything better to do, Hermione settled herself into a more or less comfortable position on the windowsill. Drawing her knees to her chest, she contemplated the downpour of rain. The grey October sky was hung by thick clouds and the almost bare branches of the dripping wet trees were shifting restlessly in the stormy blows that hit them.

It was certainly no weather for _any_ kind of outdoor activity; nonetheless some maniac was up there on his broom, circling the castle despite the downpour of rain. Hermione briefly wondered if it might be Harry, but quickly dismissed the thought. Not even he would be stupid enough to turn loops and twists round the tops of Hogwarts’ towers in a bloody rainstorm.

Whoever they were, considering she had more problems herself she could handle, Hermione let the mysterious flyer be and slumped back to the wall. Her knees drawn to her chest she stared to her feet – gloomily. _‘What a freaking – unpleasant situation!’_

She could not tell what had come over her to behave like that. To play along like that, to not only tolerate, but to actually respond to the kiss… _‘What the heck had she been thinking?’_

Well, thinking had not been on the top ten activities of her, once Dra-Malf- well, _his_ lips had touched hers.

How on earth was she supposed to face him ever again? Somehow skipping afternoon classes seemed a very good idea to her. There was no way that he had not noticed how eagerly and thoroughly she had returned his kiss.

She had completely forgotten about her surroundings, not wasted a single thought about the one matter which pressed her constantly these days. She had completely forgotten about her troublesome condition, whereas Malfoy- Well, she was sure it had not meant the same to him. Or did it? She paused somewhat alerted all of a sudden.

_‘And if it did?’_ a funny, excited sensation spread around her stomach at that premise.

_‘But no,_ ’ she shook her head to control herself. Goyle was probably right, she assumed.

_‘There couldn’t be any other reason for Malfoy’s behaviour. He’d just done that to piss off Harry._ ’

And stupid little fool that she was she had played along! People were probably laughing there asses off right now.

OO

Out of the blue Myrtle appeared. Hermione, already fearing a well familiar ghostly tantrum to come, was surprised about the sudden air of curiosity surrounding her. Instead of renewed whining Myrtle silently approached her by the window.

“There you are,” she stated, carefully peering around the nearest pillar before she fully drifted in site. “You’re alone?”

“Did you really snog Draco Malfoy?!” the translucent girl then blurted out, breathlessly.

Hermione paused in her thoughts – well, that probably did not fit, considering Myrtle was a ghost and as such non breathing anyway, but she was sure _if_ Myrtle _had_ been able to breath she would not have done so at the moment. The gaze with which she stared at Hermione spoke for itself. A mixture of curiosity, shock and utter disgust. How brilliant! Even Myrtle had already heard of the incident. Hermione felt truly doomed.

“What do _– you_ – know about it!?” she gasped without thinking.

It had been the wrong thing to say. Within an instant Myrtle snapped out of her state of stunned fascination. Scooting up into the air she began to circle round Hermione. “Don’t think just because I’m a ghost I wouldn’t know about things going on at this school!” she called out, flickering a more intense shade of blue all of a sudden.

“Umm, no, Myrtle, of course not,” Hermione stammered uncomfortably. She already feared another Myrtle-like fit to follow – something she was unable to cope with at the moment – but surprisingly enough it did not come. Instead of her usual whining, Myrtle remained strikingly calm.

“You look _sick_ , you know?” she stated then, floating back close again to contemplate Hermione with almost compassionate eyes. “No wonder if one considers what you just went through. To be kissed by that crank would cause everyone to get nauseous I’spose.”

“Shut up, Myrtle!” Hermione growled surprised by her sudden annoyance with the other girl’s statement.

Once again Myrtle watched her with a fascinated look in her eyes. “No need to snap at me like that. Oh _crikey_! You actually _liked_ kissing him then!?” the girly ghost muttered disbelievingly. Then her pale translucent face lit up in excitement. “You _fancy_ him! So you’re truly having a thing going on with him, aren’t you?! Oh that’s priceless. _Priceless_! And I didn’t believe Peeves when he told me the two of you almost got it on in the potions lab... But you and Malfoy – you’re actually…. _Oh my gods!_ ” she gasped glowing a bluish shade of violet all of a sudden. “Oh blimey! If it’s like this … you… you wouldn’t possibly be _pregnant,_ would you!” she added most eagerly for more scandal.

_“What!_ ” Hermione shrieked startled.

“Well, back in my time,” Myrtle began slyly, “– my _living_ days, that is,” she added hastily, “there was this girl, Cathrina, who was betrothed to her cousin, and… ” She muffled a giggle, “and they obviously fancied each other very much and they couldn’t wait to get married, if you know what I mean. But you probably do, don’t you? Well whatever, this girl I’m talking about, Cathrina, she happened to be constantly sick as well. She tried to hide it, but well, she was in my year and it was more than one time I saw her rushing off to the nearest bathroom or into the scrubs. She looked equally worn out and ill as you are doing now…”

“What happened to her?” Hermione asked breathlessly.

“What do you expect?” Myrtle asked pragmatically. “They took her out of school of course! And as soon as Lucretius graduated they were married. Three years before it was originally planed. Her education was completed at the Manor.”

“Which Manor?” Hermione asked weakly.

“What did you think? _Malfoy Manor_ , of course!”

“Oh no, I’m going to drown myself!” Hermione moaned in frustration.

This was definitely something to catch Myrtle’s interest. “Really?” she asked hopefully.

“No, Myrtle, not today, thank you!”

“Oh –” Myrtle said sounding slightly disappointed, “well if you’re sure! Is there anything else I can do for you? Oh Hermione, just tell me: Is it really Malfoy’s child you’re expecting? Or is it possibly _Harry’s_?” she asked with clear craving for scandalising news.

_“Myrtle!_ ” Hermione gasped, “I never said I was pregnant at all, did I?”

“No, you didn’t say that, but it’s pretty obvious, I think.”

Hermione decided to just leave for her quarters before the conversation could proceed any worse.

**OO**

Wet as a cat and shivering from cold Draco returned to the castle. His elegant Nimbus 2006 looked rather ruffled. Some of its twigs were split and broken and Draco and his poor mistreated flying-instrument left a trace of muddy sleety-water, Filch would not be pleased about.

But as pitiful as his broom looked it was nothing in comparison to the disarrangement of his emotions.

Bodily Draco might be on save ground again, but his thoughts were still swirling and twisting in perilous bents and turns at breakneck speed and were currently endangered of spiralling right into the abyss.

_‘He had just done it to piss off Potter.’_ That was the only reasonable explanation, the only one he could live with…keeping his sanity… at least.

OO

Later when the shower’s warm comforting waters were pouring down around him he was not at all sure of this anymore. Every time Draco tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he exposed his face and tense shoulders to the soft, steady downpour of the running shower – _her_ – face appeared in front of his inner eye and the memory of the sweetness of the kiss they had shared came rushing back to his mind. He had turned the water as hot as he could stand it to warm and relax his tense muscles. The water vapour was enclosing him like mist from all around, blurring his vision. Nothing but the steady sound of the running water was heard. It was calming and relaxing and he should have been glad to have enough time left to find back to himself before the meeting. Nonetheless he had difficulties to slow down the torment of emotions he felt.

In the afternoon they had to attend a Staff Meeting with their Heads of Houses and the Prefects to discuss how preparations for the Halloween Feast progressed. Facing her under the cautious eyes of Snape of all people – oh what fun that would become.

OO

In the afternoon, quarter an hour before the meeting was about to start Draco, outwardly his calm and controlled self again, stepped into the blue corridor. Without his propose his eyes got fixed on the only other door up here. _Her door_ , which was shut at the moment. And just as unintentionally his steps slowed down in passing. Unable to just walk on by he stopped right in front of it – listening. But he could stain his ears as much as he might there just was not any noise from inside not a single sound to indicate her presence.

Slightly worried he knocked softly on the door. “Granger?” There was no response.

She probably was already at the meeting, he presumed. She was never late, it was her second nature to do whatever she did properly and he’d probably better hurry if he did not want to be late himself.

Once again the drive of his thoughts was worrying him. Since when did he deem Granger’s actions and devises perfect? Hopefully this was just an after-effect of the potion! It would probably wear off soon enough then. Whereas… That damn potion’s aspire had been to cause people acting on their first and foremost intentions suiting the circumstances and take the currently most fitting shape of oneself for it. So why-oh-why did he have to turn into a future shape of himself to kiss her thoroughly, in spite of their gawking classmates surrounding them? That was kind of worrisome indeed. And not at all what he wanted to think over – _again_ – right now.

Having not found any solution suiting him all afternoon he was unlikely to find one now.

With an annoyed shake of his head Draco tried once again to just get over with it. Nonetheless he could not get rid of the nagging feeling of uneasiness at the thought of just passing by without checking on her first. So, very cautiously, he approached the doorway leading to her rooms. “Snitch,” he mumbled and immediately the door swung open.

Once inside Draco nervously glanced around. She was nowhere to be seen. Just then he noticed the bedroom door was left ajar. Literally on tiptoes he stepped closer. “Granger?” he whispered, but there still was no answer. Nonetheless he had the certain feeling she was there.

He had been right. Atop the magnificent four-poster, which resembled the one in his own quarters, the cause of his bad day was curled up fast asleep.

He could not help but stare. She looked so peaceful lying there, so soft and – vulnerable. Once again that funny feeling within his chest stirred. She was fully dressed, he realised with some kind of relief. But she had not even taken the time to pull the covers above her. For all it seemed she had just fallen asleep, probably quite unintentionally. She would be disappointed to miss the meeting, he mused. Half-heartedly he stepped closer until he came to stop right beside her bedside, gazing down on her – fondly.

Be it as may, he had not the heart to disturb her. How exhausted she had to be. It was high time she finally got some rest.

A sudden movement to his right startled him. But it was just the curtains moving in the heavy breeze of the harvest day. It was just then, Draco realised one of the huge bedroom windows was ajar. Frowning he glanced over towards the uncovered, sleeping form of Hermione atop the bed, then back towards the window again.

He did not dare to shut it – for he could have woken her up in the process – not even by magic. Nonetheless he was kind of worried she might catch a cold if he just left her like this. After a brief moment of careful consideration his face lit up. Remembering the other day, when he had carried her up here from the boys’ bathroom he simply summoned one of the fluffy woollen blankets from the sitting area. As cautiously as he could manage he de-levitated it, placing the blanket around her. She smiled in her sleep.

Impulsively Draco reached out to brush a ringlet behind her ear that tickled her face at every breath she took, but stopped in mid-movement. He would not – _survive_ – facing her in a situation like this if she happened to wake up. So he withdrew his hand in an awkward gesture not daring to touch her. Once again he remembered so well how precious her skin had felt beneath his fingertips as they had brushed softly across her cheek and neck earlier that day. His throat got all tight at the memory of it.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he drew his hand back, his greyish-blue eyes never leaving her face. Draco Malfoy remained thunderstruck as he watched the sleeping form of Hermione Granger on the bed. She was curled up on her right side, her face was turned towards him and her eyes were shut. Her shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Now that he knew her to be asleep, there was no need to mask his features. He simply studied her face and watched her sleeping. She was so righteous, so smart and kind … How on earth could she ever put up with someone like him? He frowned. _‘He didn’t just think that, did he?’_ Well – high time to leave right this instant he decided.

OO

He had hardly entered the staff room when everyone’s attention was turned towards him. Unsurprisingly enough he had _not_ made it in time. The discussion concerning the Halloween Feast was already in full progress. The knowingly smiling Headmaster as well, as the Heads of Houses, the rest of staff, and all the Prefects were assembled around the huge dark-wood table, the pieces of parchment in front of them already covered in scribbles.

“Ah, _Mr. Malfoy_ pleased you could finally join us.” Snape remarked dryly. His dark eyes were glittering with amusement rather than malice, when he searched the doorframe behind him. “May I possibly ask you if we can still look forward to be graced with Miss Granger’s presence as well?”

Confounded Draco glanced around noting all of his teachers’ and fellow students’ eyes fixed on him – curiously. For all it looked like news did pass as quickly as usual around Hogwarts. Contemplating his options, Draco decided some improvisation was in order. “Oh, I – err, well, “Miss Granger told me to beg you pardon, as she can’t attend the meeting… ” he began lamely, but quickly got a grip of himself. “She’s err, well, you see, she’s – engaged…” he mumbled, “…she…”

_“Engaged?_ ” McGonagall asked, her dark eyebrows rising suspiciously. But it was a badly suppressed snort from his own Head of House that caused Draco to flinch at the unlucky choice of words.

“Well yes, engaged in some….o-other business… an important discussion, you see?”

_“Indeed?_ ” Snape sneered, mockingly, tracing his gaze over Drano’s left hand for the slightest of moments before he gestured towards the pair of empty seats left. “If you would kindly join us then, Mr. Malfoy?”

With a curt nod Draco hurriedly slipped into his seat, glad to have managed to escape the cross-examination. But still everyone around was looking at him as if they – knew. It was unbearable.

For a few minutes Draco tried his best to follow the discussion about the possible use of bits of mist to improve the ball’s atmosphere, regardless of the curious glances around and the one topic pressing his mind. Only when he had envisioned a patch of fog to have taken the outlines of Grangers face for the fourth time in a row, he finally he gave up trying.

Ignoring Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchly’s excited whispering, Draco allowed his thoughts once again to stroll off towards the blue corridor and the one sleeping up there…

It was pure bad luck that Snape took right that moment to ask for his opinion about Hagrid’s latest suggestion.

Just when Draco was convinced that the day could not proceed any worse, it yet did. In form of a highly flustered, hot and bothered Gryffindor know-it-all his certain undoing burst into the room.

“My apologies! I’m so sorry, Professor McGonagall, but I was so…”

_“Engaged?”_ Snape suggested jeeringly and much to Draco’s dismay everyone in the room, including the teachers could not help but express their amusement one way or another. A wave of laughter, chuckling and snorts as well as murmuring filled the room.

Cringing with embarrassment himself, Draco noticed the frown of confusion crossing Hermione’s face, “No, I err, overslept...”

Another wave of laughter answered this excuse.

It took Draco all his self-control not to moan out aloud at the unlucky way the discussion had turned. Much to his horror he caught a mock smile from McGonagall, of all people. “Mr. Malfoy?” she requested rising her brows.

“Oh. Err, yes?” he yelped.

“Yes?” the professor asked rather suspiciously.

“Ohh! But I thought you had to talk to that Ravenclaw girl?” he asked with as much surprise he could lay into his voice, hoping against hope that Granger would catch the ball.

No such luck, though.

“ _Ravenclaw girl?_ ” she frowned thunderstruck. “Why?”

“Well,” he pressed out rather desperately, raising his brows in silent plea. “You told me not to wait for you, but to just go ahead …” Draco truly considered hexing the floorboards to open up and swallow him, or preferably both of them at the point that bloody conversation took. “…to the meeting,” he added unenthusiastically.

**A/N:** You think it couldn’t get worse for Draco? Just you wait…

Thank you for commenting and kudo-ing (is that a word, even?) I have so much fun writing this story and your encouragement is truly spurring me on!

Smiles, Serpentina


	14. Stirs of Magic

Hermione knew immediately that she had made some huge mistake even if she did not understand why. Once she had entered the staff room everyone was staring at her as if she had sprouted a second head – at the very least.

Malfoy’s babbling did not make any sense to her and from the second on she dared to face him, she got so confused herself that she just did not get the meaning of what he was so desperately trying to tell her.

Concentrating became incredibly hard all of a sudden. The sight of a rattled Malfoy, whose cheeks were reddening at top speeds was too distracting in its peculiarity.

Besides that she had to fight the heavy tickling sensation in the pit of her stomach ever since she had lain eyes on him. It was getting her terribly, utterly nervous all of a sudden. Damn Potions experiment! Damn evil, smirking Snape!

**OO**

When - _finally_ \- the meeting was over, Draco hurried to get out of his seat. Masking the torment of his emotions closely he watched how Granger collected her parchment and quills, stuffed them into her bag and hurriedly slipped out of the room.

Unlike him who was quite used of enclosing his emotions – _usually_ – she appeared quite stressed and completely unable to hide that matter. She was very pale and her lips were pressed together. She looked – frightened – Draco realised. Frightened and uncertain. She appeared to be afraid to endure any more gossip, laughter and embarrassment or nosy questions from the other students.

Well, she’d probably better get used to the constant whispering around her, he supposed. Unbidden he suddenly envisioned an image of Granger as she might look in a few month of time:

_She looked very unhappy and worn out by the emotional torment._

_The now unmistakable swell of her belly outlined beneath her robes, she hurried along the corridors all alone. Unable to avoid the countless amused or assailed glances taunting her. Unable to escape the harassing and constant mockery. Hermione Granger, the once priced Head Girl and star student who got herself laid and knocked up by some unacknowledged guy –_

He gasped at how very much that idea bothered him. He could not help but frown. Why did it bother him so much?

Then – just as unbidden but no less vivid there was another addition to the scene:

_The vision of himself running after her. Touching her shoulder. Taking her hand. Defending her. Backing her up. Hugging and holding her – for comfort._

_The vision of visibly pregnant, muggleborn, Hermione Granger looking at him, her warm shining brown eyes lit with trust and affection as she smiled at him._

_The vision of Hermione Granger leaning in to him, flinging both of her arms around him._

_The vision of Hermione Granger snuggling into his embrace as he was holding her in mid of the Entrance Hall. No matter what conclusions people were to draw from it –_

He swallowed hard at this. The franic pounding of his heart echoing in his ears. _This_ should be bothering him for sure, and yet – it did not.

**OO**

When she heard hurried footsteps behind her, Hermione’s first impulse was to quicken her steps but then the rest of her pride got the better of her. She might avoid a fight or argument these days - which was very unlike her old self - she was even afraid to spend much time in the company of her classmates because of the possible uncomfortable comments or questions to come, but she would not run away like a complete coward.

Only when who ever was following her had almost reached her she briefly considered quickening her steps, but decided against it as she had already made enough of a fool out of herself this day.

And then she knew. She could not explain why she knew who was following her, she just did.

_She could tell it was him before she even turned to face the person approaching her. She could tell it from the sound of steps slowing down behind her – as well as from the intense tingling sensation on her skin - sensing heat radiating from the palm of the hand reaching for her elbow – sending shivers up and down her spine before the actual touch even –_

“Malfoy,” she breathed and heard him gasp in return.

“You knew it was me?” he asked bewildered just as he truly reached for her arm, the warmth of his palm causing goosefleshes as it brushed along the bare skin of her forearm and wrist made her shiver.

“You’re all right?” he muttered, concern in his voice as he softly turned her to face him.

“Yes,” she croaked out in reply to both of his questions. “Yes...I am.”

The closeness of his touch brought memories of the moments they had spent in a similar position at the potions lab back this morning and of the breathtaking kiss they had shared afterwards.

It did not help in the slightest that Malfoy’s greyish-blue eyes lit up looking at her and his lips switched with the ghost of a smile at her response, “Good...” came the reply to both of her answers.

At this Hermione’s throat got all dry at the memory of how softly these lips had brushed across hers just a few hours ago.

Unable to come up with anything plausible to say she focused on these lips, wondering if they would possibly cause her the same torment of emotion if she asked him to – kiss her again – just one more time – and just to prove those bothersome persistent and completely inadequate imagination wrong that tried to make her believe he might harbour any feelings – other than pity and possibly a little sympathy and compassion for her.

She mustn’t expect anything else. What ever had happened between her and – Malfoy’s gallant, charismatic older self down at the potions lab earlier – it had just been to get back at Harry. However soft, tender and caring his elder self had treated her – it had been no more than an act. There was absolutely - _no_ \- way Malfoy could have meant any of those actions! Nonetheless the tender expression in the bluish-grey eyes fixing her now resembled that of a lo–v… o-of a person who – cared –

Resolutely Hermione pinched her eyes shut. Her moods really got the better of her, recently.

**OO**

“Granger?” Draco muttered worriedly as she pinched her eyes shut. Impulsively he reached out for her, once again touching her shoulder to steady and comfort her but once again she flinched at the contact.

The palm of his hand slipped down her upper-arm to rest at her elbow for the slightest of moments before he drew it back effortlessly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come up with some more plausible excuse, but I …I didn’t think you would wake so soon.”

“Huhh?” she breathed absentmindedly, but frowned as his words cut through her musings. “Wake?” she whispered back. “Wake me? But...”

With that her beautiful doe-brown eyes went wide as realisation drew in to her. “Oo-oh...”

Draco mentally slapped himself at his slip. Brilliant tactics to make her trust him.

“You have been in my room, Malfoy?” she asked tensely.

At this he swallowed, nervousness rushing through his veins inducing that traitorous colour of embarrassment to show on his cheeks once again.

He closed his eyes for a moment to avoid her gaze, even if he knew she could still watch him. He did not think he could face the disappointment and suspicion he expected to replace the former confusion.

“Yes, I’ve been there, but... I didn’t intend to pry, Granger, believe me, I just meant to check on you after – “ he trailed off embarrassed, but then looked up at her taking a deep breath to reassure himself.

“I wasn’t sure how you were putting up with what happened at the potions lab earlier. Oh Granger, please believe me, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, really! I…I just meant to …to get at Potter for treating you so bad... I realised he did hurt you by what he had said earlier. It was mean and offensive and... You were so discomposed and upset and...I... I wanted to comfort you and somehow… And that kiss…somehow... well... I don’t know, but it just seemed logical...to kiss you…”

“...back then…” he quickly added at her eyes widening, “…but afterwards...;” Malfoy continued ruefully, “…while flying…I worried you might be upset, or angry, since it probably didn’t help one bit – I probably even added to your trouble, since people will most likely believe what Potter implied now.”

**OO**

“Flying?” Hermione asked completely bewildered considering the weather conditions until the memory of the mysterious maniac circling the castle in spite of the bloody rainstorm only back this morning drew into her. At her confused frown Malfoy quickly added: “Well, well…you know - down at the dungeons – after you left - Potter said some things…”

“What did he say?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Well, he…he did tell a lot of rubbish – as usual –“ he stated sarcastically, but grew serious again the very next moment.

“He said a lot of mean, nasty things, Granger. Nothing I intend to report to you - really.”

“What?! Why ever not, Malfoy?!” she gasped.

“Because he was insulting you in … in a most disgraceful manner.. and I… I’m not at all comfortable telling you! Just know, it was about the _‘arrangement_ ’ he supposes to be going on between the two of us.”

“Oh-oh…, so he did accuse us of…of m-messing about with one another?!” she concluded bewildered, feeling her own cheeks reddening at top speed all of a sudden.

Malfoy contemplated her with sad, compassionate eyes… although there was something else in his gaze she could not quite name.

“Don’t make me repeat such rubbish to you…” he pleaded, but Hermione shook her head, a rather stubborn expression on her now angrily glowing face.

“I’d rather hear from you than from the gossip to follow. I have a right to know, don’t you think so?”

She could tell from the tight way Malfoy was clenching his jaw that he was indeed highly troubled by the matter.

“Yes,” he stated uneasily, but seriously, “yes, you certainly have.”

Taking in a deep breath he prepared himself to report to her whatever horrible things Harry might have said.

OO

Right then the stern voice of Professor McGonagall cut into their discussion. “Miss Granger, a word please.“ The strict tone of her voice made clear this was no question.

With a sigh of frustration Hermione turned towards her teacher. Brilliant timing.

Whatever this was about, it would not be pleasant, she supposed. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione noticed that Malfoy was following her.

So did McGonagall.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked, rising her brows.

“I was just talking to Miss Granger, Professor,” he declared with an unmistakable note of irritation and complaint in his voice at which the witches eyes narrowed warningly.

Hermione would not have been surprised if she had transformed into her tabby-form, sprouting claws.

“It troubles me to interrupt your discussion, then, but since I intend to talk to Miss Granger in private, you will need to break it off, I’m afraid,” the professor remarked sarcastically instead.

“So unless there is anything else you want tell me, would you _please_ leave now, Mr. Malfoy?”

For a moment Hermione supposed Malfoy to refuse or at least to debate about the matter, but when he caught her warning glance he held it for a moment. With his back turned on the professor he contemplated Hermione fondly for a couple of seconds before he turned to leave. “Tell her,” he mouthed silently.

 

OO

Inside the professor’s office Hermione’s thoughts were soon focused back on her own problems, though. Nervously she bit her lip, well aware of how badly she had neglected her own duties recently. She had let Malfoy cope with almost all of the work alone. Even today’s meeting, she had almost missed. This had to stop. She either had to solve her problem so that she could move on properly or put down her position as Head Girl. Like this she was to no use to anyone.

But instead of the lecture she expected she was offered a place in the window seat, a box of chocolate biscuits and a steaming cup of Darjeeling tea.

“What is wrong with you, Miss Granger?” the elderly woman asked kindly. “I…I…” Hermione stammered. With nervously shaking hands she replaced the tea-cup onto the dish, bespattering it with the hot liquid.

 

“I needn’t point out the slip of your grades, I assume,” her Head of House began.

“No, Professor,” Hermione murmured, “you needn’t, I’m well aware of that. I will make up for the delay, really.”

“That isn’t what I mean,” the older witch responded, kindly. “I know you will. But what caused this change, Miss Granger. You always mastered your tasks well. Even with the horrible developments during the past years. And it is not just that. You appear to be unfocussed and troubled, recently. Today you almost missed the meeting… all of this is so _unlike_ you, Miss Granger. It is… Well, I am worried. So won’t you tell me what all of this is about?”

It was very tempting to lift all that pressure by telling the older witch what was truly troubling her. For a moment it was almost overwhelming to just tell – everything – or the quite important instant of – _being pregnant_ – at the very least.

After a short pause at which she contemplated Hermione closely, McGonagall continued, “In contrast to some of my colleagues I do not think it is the position as Head Girl what is distracting you, however.”

At that Hermione’s head snapped up to check for a possible hint that McGonagall knew more about the origin of her problem than she had first expected. Carefully avoiding to look the other woman into the eye, she still noticed the professor’s eyes watching her thoughtfully.

“You can tell me, dear. Whatever this is about, you needn’t put up with it alone.”

Hermione held her breath. Was it possible that McGonagall already knew?! Or did she at least expect something?

She was surprised at the mixture of fright and utter relief she felt at the idea of sharing her worries. She did not doubt McGonagall would take matters into her hand. Not the decision in itself – as this was hers and no one else’s but hers alone – but she knew she would not be able to just worm her way around deciding anymore. In fact she was acting like a very small child, pretending not to be seen as long as they were hiding their face in their hands.

Nonetheless the thought of telling people, facing her parents, professors and – Harry – was terrifying to put it mildly. Still hesitating, Hermione looked at the kind, worried face of her favourite teacher, her composure already cracking.

“You’re correct. There – _is_ – something troubling me, indeed…” Hermione began but trailed off, hesitating once again whether or not to cross the faint line of truly acknowledging what she knew to be true. As if the matter would not be completely real as long as she kept refusing to talk about it.

Unfortunately the professor’s next words happened to put an end to Hermione’s acceptance of opening up towards her.

“Is the young Mr. Malfoy bothering you?” McGonagall cut in through the busy silence of her musings.

“What?” Hermione gasped thunderstruck. “I beg your pardon,” she corrected herself. “No!! What…What makes you think so, Professor?”

Leaning back, the other witch inhaled deeply before she spoke again: “He…. well, he seems to… cut you off your friends, recently. Do you deem it wise to be so neglecting about your former circle because of…. someone who …. Well- him?” she trailed off, stating her criticism ever so clearly by what was left unsaid.

Hermione just stared at her – speechless.

“I certainly don’t intend to judge your relations, Miss Granger, but I am convinced you could do better than ally with someone of his – _their like_ …. ”

After the first surprise Hermione felt an odd rush of annoyance at the way her usually mild tempered and wise Head of House was jumping to conclusions.

“No, Professor,” she declared stiffly, “Mr. Malfoy isn’t bothering me in the slightest, I can assure you. And there’s more to him than you might give him credit for! In fact he is the closest person I have to rely to at the moment, since my so called ‘ _friends_ ’ appear not to care about me at all… and… and I’m quite grateful for his help!”

“Well, _in that case_ , Miss Granger,” I leave you to your own judging,” the professor told her with unmistakable disapprove. “It is entirely your choice who you favour to socialise with. I am merely surprised.”

**OO**

The long yellowish grass was moving and shifting in the light air of the once again windy harvest day that’s already chilly breeze curled the lake’s surface into countless little waves, glittering in the restless change of light and shadow.

Draco Malfoy quickened his steps on his way down towards the nearby field.

He watched the shaking and shifting trees and bushes that lined his way as some autumn leaves, caught by a gust, whirled up into the cloudy harvest sky.

It was a wonderful day for flying.

And fortunately in last class on Friday afternoon he was supposed to do just that. Draco was looking very much forward to relax during his time on a broom. Seriously he also hungered for an opportunity to cause Potter some trouble and get him into some nasty little detention –or even better – expelled.

But after almost seven years of trying he did not set his hopes concerning the last point high.

He was accompanied by Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, who were delightfully chatting about the Halloween Feast, all of them carrying their own brooms along. Wealthy Slytherins that they were they did not have to rely on School Brooms like some other students.

“I’m actually starting to like that idea of costumes,” Pansy, whose sleek black hair, tied into a tight ponytail shone like polished ebony, admitted smiling at him.

“It holds so many options. Just think. We can go as whoever we please, we can even mask ourselves. Oh boys, am I looking forward to that! And there’s no limit, nothing will be too outrageous, too creepy, or offending. Isn’t that fascinating?!”

“Yes, I consider going as Godric Gryffindor,” Goyle rumbled, nerveless.

“Oh you!” Pansy pouted, after staring at him open-mouthed for a couple of seconds, before smacking his arm in a playful manner. “You’re such a doofus!”

“Hey! I got you there, didn’t I,” he grinned. “So who’s the doofus here, hu? Ouch…I…ouch…”

Draco exchanged an exasperated, meaningful glance with Crabbe who rolled his eyes in mock boredom as the four of them continued walking down the hammock where the lawn ended and a wide field with longer, slightly yellowish grass stretched up to the lake. Two of its sides were lined by the first trees of the Forbidden Forest.

In the distance they could see the broom shed, as well as a small group of their already assembled class mates.

“What’s your costume going to be, Draco? Maybe we could dress up in matching disguises,” Pansy twittered once she had quitted her mock attacks on Goyle, who did not appear to be pleased by the sudden lack of intention he got from her, watching them heedfully.

“ _We all four_ ,” she quickly added at his frown, then turned back to Draco once again. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

For a brief moment, Draco considered _how very_ fun that might be, indeed. He already pictured a Great Hall full of fearfully screeching Hufflepuffs, brainlessly panicking Ravenclaws and foolishly wand drawing Gryffindors. But then, he had planned to make a spectacular entry for himself. He had no intention of sharing this effect, so he’d better leave the others out of this.

“Presumably, but I suppose you already picked your costumes, haven’t you?” he drawled carelessly.

“Well, I…thought…” Pansy began, but was cut short by a laugh.

“I bet he’s planning going as a dragon, don’t you Draco?” Crabbe injected, with a worried glance at his companion, whose face held an air of desolation, still, but apparently lightened at the jest.

“What are you so secretive about, Draco? Did you figure out a way to breathe fire, sprout wings and fangs, or what?” Goyle rejoined their discussion, still irritated.

Pansy’s laugh sounded hollow and false in Draco’s ears. He wondered what kind of intentions she held towards him. He was pretty much sure that she did not really feel any deeper emotions for him. Or did she?

Oblivious to his consideration, Pansy flashed him another smile, which she probably considered charming and took his arm.

“I _love_ the idea of a costume feast. How on earth did you come up with such a brilliant idea, Draco?” she repeated.

“Well, actually it was Herm-mhm _her_ idea, I meant to say,” he sputtered.

Damn, he had almost called Granger by her first name – again!

He had no idea why but in fact, his thoughts had tripped over that issue quite often recently and back in Potions class he had already slipped. Maybe it was because of getting to know her at such striking speeds and under such – unusual circumstances. Because her private issues were forced onto him so thoroughly and unexpectedly during these past days that he felt just odd about it.

Cautiously he looked around to check his friends’ faces. Much to his relief none of his companions seemed to have noticed his near slip, though.

“Oh HER’s?!” Pansy snarled, “That filthy Mudblood’s?! You can’t be serious about that, Draco!”

For some unknown reason, the long-familiar insult struck him like a blow. “Don’t call her that!” he rasped before he could think better of it.

Even while speaking he realised his mistake. He was not supposed to defend her. Hopefully he would manage to successfully worm his way out of it - again. It certainly was about time he stopped putting his foot into his mouth about her – constantly.

Like he had expected, Pansy immediately let go of his arm – much to Goyle’s relief as he noted - and took a step backwards to frown at him. “Pardon?”

At her puzzled expression Draco quickly added: “I have to get along with her at least. And… she can become quite unbearable if she’s annoyed.”

“ _Says who_?” Pansy asked challenging, but Draco just shook his head.

“No, honestly, how do you think I should get along without her help? It’s fairly stressful being Head Boy at times.”

“That cow,” Crabbe commented sympathetically, “don’t say she’s giving you a hard time?” Draco quitted this remark with a dark scowl which his friends obviously took for a yes.

“Oh, but couldn’t I help you, Draco?” Pansy suggested hopefully, which earned her a dark glance from Goyle who still walked by her side and tried his best to ignore the fact that she literally clung to Draco.

Out of the corner of his eye Draco suddenly thought he saw...

“…. potions ….” Pansy kept chatting on.

“Huh?” Draco stated absentmindedly.

“Granger,” Pansy continued.

Draco narrowed his eyes. Yes, he was pretty much sure that it was her…

**OO**

She was last in the broom shed. All the others were already assembled in the field.

Hastily Hermione scanned the remaining brooms on the walls until her eyes spotted the solid but rather slow Comet 20 she usually flew.

Just when she reached up to undo the haltering, a noise from the doorway made her stop in mid movement.

“Do tell me that’s a joke! You can’t be serious about that!” a quite familiar voice hissed making her flinch. With a slight clattering noise the broom she had been about to pick clattered to the floor.

“Malfoy!” she gasped.

It was dim in the shed, therefore she could not read his features, but she could tell from the note of his voice that he was not pleased.

After the past day’s embarrassment she found herself rather tongue-tied around him.

“You shouldn’t fly,” he stated seriously.

Hermione bit her lip. “What other choice do I have?” she asked bitterly, “I can hardly skip classes without any explanation, can I?”

“You could simply tell people,” he remarked calmly, stepping closer. “You’ll have to give your ‘ _reasons_ ’ away anyway, soon. That is - in case you don’t consider…”

He noticed her flinch and immediately trailed off. “You know…” he muttered softly.

She did not look his direction at her respond, but picked up the broom instead. “Whatever… I can’t miss class … until I know… what to do.”

Her head suddenly snapped up.

“Please Malfoy, I know it’s irresponsible of me to fly, but I just _can’t_ miss lessons without any explanation.”

Nervous about the fact that she still could not recognise his eyes against the doorframe, she continued: “You won’t tell anyone, Malfoy, would you? You promised…”

With an exasperated sigh he stepped fully into the shed, touching her shoulder in an appeasing gesture.

“Calm down, Granger. I did say I wouldn’t tell anyone and I won’t, but … honestly, what do you expect me to do? Watch you fall to your death?”

“Like you’d bother, if I did!” she gave back rather harshly, shaken by the sudden physical contact, but immediately regretted the outburst. He looked truly hurt, she noted and for some reason she felt rather bad about it.

Feeling guilty she caught his gaze. Now that he was no longer shielding the doorframe she could finally recognise his eyes, which appeared to be stormy grey in the current light. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I…”

Before she could think better of it, she was already reaching out to him. With trembling fingertips, she placed one hand at his upper arm to show him… Well...

The blood pondering through her veins she did not really know what she meant to tell him, exactly.She had just acted out of impulse and touching him appeared to be the only logical action there was. So her hand reached for his shoulder just like his was still resting on hers.

“That was a stupid thing for me to say,” she murmured, her mouth all dry with tension and … excitement…at the sudden feeling of attraction and enrapture ….captivating her like the day before….

“I.. I know you won’t tell. Please, don’t be mad at me…”

The gesture did not seem to have a calming effect on him,either. His posture immediately tensed. The blueish-grey eyes widened and he gasped almost inaudible. Hermione could feel him shiver at the touch. A look of... sudden, unmasked desire…washing over his features, Malfoy took a rushed step into her direction…but paused just before he was actually leaning into her.

_There was so little space left Hermione could literally feel his warmth as well as the physical presence of his body very close by, yet not truly touching hers…_

All of a sudden there was liquid fire rushing though her veins. It did cost her all of her willpower not to jump forward and fling herself at him.

_Unbidden visions of leaning back onto one of the large almost hip-high store-boxes behind her, enwrapping Malfoy with her knees and thighs as he kissed her… Passionately – caused her to loose herself in a haze of… Longing…_

She wanted to run her fingers through those incredible blond strands… Wanted her hands to roam over the shape of his back until they finally slipped down towards his hips and buttocks…to make him respond to her need…

She wanted… His hands on her body… Caressing her… His lips clasping hers in a kiss much more luscious and intense than the one they had shared the day before… She wanted those lips to trail a hot path of ardent kisses and love bites down the tender flesh of her neck…leaving a large, sensitive, dark red mark on the flawless skin …marking her his…and his alone…just as she wanted….wanted...wanted him…

Hermione did not know what might have happened if it had not been for Malfoy to reduce the level of intensity between them by stepping back, cupping her cheek as he smiled at her. Tenderly.

“Don't apologise,” he softly muttered, “I know you didn’t mean to. You’re just frightened and exhausted. I can very well sense that.. But you needn’t be, Hermione. I’m with you. I won’t let you down…like he did… Not _ever!_ Hermione, I’ll…be there… _I am_.”

Still dazed, Hermione tried to get back her composure. Did he really use her first name right now? Or did she just imagine that…And did he say….he…meant to…stay…with her…???

She was so confused. She could not have understood that right. It just could not be.

There was still longing stirring her insides, the almost desperate urge to snuggle into his embrace, but at least she could keep herself from simply devouring him now.

Forcing herself to breathe calmly once again she took a rushed unsteady step backwards, only to fall over the very same store-box she had fantasised about earlier.

Like before Malfoy’s arms flew up to circle round her back – only now it was for mere support rather than passion. Nonetheless the effect was vivid.

As the unforeseen movement caused Malfoy to loose balance and stumble forward they did end up in a rather interesting position that made Hermione’s knees weak – which did not matter all that much at the moment – as she was lying on her back, bend over the traitorous store-box with Malfoy right on top of her… holding her, while one of his knees was positioned between her thighs… Way…wasn’t she lucky?

Fighting for the rest of her rattled self-control once again, Hermione whimpered with frustration as she tried to push Malfoy off of her, before she creased to care whether she really embarrassed herself by the outrageous, unthinkable but significant impulse of speading her legs while arcing up beneath him…

She gasped at realising how very much she wanted to do – just – and exactly that – to buck up her hips to meet his, in spite or rather in aspire of the most likely consequence of ending up having it away in the broom shed with no other than …Draco Malfoy…

There was a most significant hardness pressing into her thigh and unless Malfoy did not keep his wand in a rather unusual place, she was tempted to say he might consider playing along.

‘ _Well aren’t you lucky, indeed_ ’ the nasty little voice in the back of her mind mocked her ‘ _just go ahead – Shag him! Just do! Guess what? You won’t get pregnant! Isn’t that encouraging!’_

Sensing her sudden discomfort Draco withdrew from her, immediately. Supporting his weight so not to crush her he stood up, lifting her up with him. His face was hot and flustered, his eyes oddly bright. She felt a rush of desire at merely looking at him.

Although she was relieved to have escaped the doubtlessly sexual suggestive situation Hermione’s every nerve was still on fire. It did not help lessening the pent up tension inside of her that Malfoy simple creased to care that he held her in his arms much longer that necessary before he – finally and very reluctantly let go of her, looking hopelessly infatuated.

For a couple of seconds they just stood still in the dim, enclosed space of the broom shed. Staring at each other in complete shock. One did not have to be magical to sense the physical phenomenon of mutual pure want surrounding them filling the narrow space up to the roof.

Once again it was Malfoy, who broke the spell.

“You’ll be the death of me, honestly,” he sighed, leaving Hermione to her own conclusions of what exactly these cryptic, hardly flattering words were supposed to mean.

Surprisingly enough he did not press the original topic of their discussion any further. Without waiting for an answer he just smiled at her and reached for her hand to press her fingers reassuringly, as she took it. “So let’s join the others then before we get caught in here.”

Once again Hermione let her eyes wander above the discomposed and tousled appearance the normally cool and nonchalant Slytherin made. She did not even dare to think of her own - probably completely flustered expression.

“Yes, that’s a wise move, I suppose,” she teased, to overcome the awkwardness she felt, “all right, Malfoy, let’s head for class, then! But you’d probably better pick those cobwebs out of your hair. You see, it simply doesn’t pass for the Head Boy to look like he’d just fallen upon the Head Girl atop a box in the broom shed, does it?”

With that she lifted her free hand to pick some dusty filaments out of his shiny blond hair which felt just as soft and smooth she had always anticipated. The grip on her other hand tightened at this and the gaze with which Malfoy contemplated her was simply breathtaking affectionate and right out adoring.

“Too true,” he smiled, pressing her hand gently once again, before he finally released it.

“But will you please tell me that in case I can think up to a plausible excuse or explanation for you to skip flying, you’ll do it? Please, Granger? I’m…I’m _so_ worried!”

Once more their eyes locked, forming a band of confide between them.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, with a content smile to lighten her features, “yes, if you figure out a solution, I will play along.”

**A/N:** Thanks for reading!

Smiles, Serpentina


	15. To safely guide you

Everyone except the two of them was already assembled around Madam Hooch when they finally arrived by the lake. Hermione wondered what idea Malfoy might be brooding about, but before he could at least try telling her the professor took the decision out of their hands.

“Today I want you to work in pairs,” she declared.

A surprised but quite joyful murmur rose amongst the students. Partner work was always a favoured task in this class.

“We’ll train Tandem-Flying today,” Madame Hooch announced. “It’s most useful for travelling if you’re able to navigate your broom with a second weight on it. I leave it to you if you place your collaborator in front of you, or if they prefer to take the back-seat. I suggest you try both options and decide whatever suits you best. But I advise you to choose your partners with care. And – please mind the weather conditions! I don’t want any accidents, because you underestimated the wind. Don’t fly any higher than you feel prepared for. Just fly out into the open area across the lake if you’re truly comfortable with it. The wind’s much heavier out there. And – no fighting please! Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, you've heard me!”

With that the Professor kicked her broom off the ground to zoom into the distance, marking today’s racing track.

Hermione had tensed at the teacher’s words. So far she had naturally paired up with Harry for any partner tasks. It had been the logical thing to do, just as Ron and Lavender used to team up. But now, especially after the row they’d had the day before, she felt herself unable to cope with the idea.

Cautiously she glanced at Neville. Maybe she could catch his eye and put him in the back-seat. She was quite sure that she would manage to handle this task, but she did not even dare to think of the possibility of him navigating the tandem-broom. No one was extraordinary keen of working with Neville, except for Herbologies where he appeared to be a real genius. 

OO 

Just then Ron approached her.

“Hey, Hermione,” he called, “did you already pair up with anyone?”

Surprised she looked up. She had not expected this at all. Not after the way he and the rest of their group had left her out these past weeks. He seemed to notice her hesitation as he looked rather awkward all of a sudden.

“You can fly with me if you like,” he offered.

Hermione snapped out of it. This was what she had wished for, wasn’t it? She had hoped to get back close with her friends. So why was she not at all comfortable with the situation now?

Determined not to brood over the matter right now, she stepped forward.

“That’s emm, nice of you, Ron,” she said, “But why… I mean, don’t you want to fly with Lavender?”

At that Ron nervously rubbed his nose, “Yeah, sure, Hermione, but… I thought, well, with all the fighting stuff and that trouble about err… Ginny, I ‘posed you wouldn’t want to fly with him right now,” he explained nodding in Harry’s direction. “And I’m sure Lavender won’t mind,” he added hastily.

Hermione’s posture tensed immediately. “Oh, but that’s not necessary, Ron,” she stated, “I really don’t want to bother you.”

Ron made another attempt to speak, but Hermione cut him short. “I’ll get along, really.”

“But Hermione – why…” 

OO 

“She has no intention of breaking her neck on a broom with – you, Weasel-King. I think she made that quite clear,” a well familiar voice cut into their discussion.

Without any of their notice Malfoy had approached them. Casually, leaning against the uneven trunk of a willow, he folded his arms, watching them. His silvery-blond hair was ruffled by the slight breeze. The mere sight of him caused Hermione’s stomach to do excited but pleasant flip-flops once again.  

“And if I were you, I’d better watch my girlfriend over there,” he added with a meaningful glace at Harry and Lavender, who was giggling as the Gryffindor Seeker directed his broom to roll over whenever she tried to mount it.  

At the sound of Malfoy’s voice Harry’s head jerked up in appal. Snapping out of teasing Lavender, his mood darkened.

“You!” he spat. “Like everyone else, I’m still trying to overcome my fits of nausea from watching the two of you almost getting it on in the dungeons yesterday. Yuck! Please be so good to spare us any further terrors. I don’t think I can stand the sight of your tongue down her throat once again – let alone anything worse – this century! I’m still sick.”

“I totally agree with that, Potter. You’re sick!” Malfoy remarked cocky.

“Oh and you’re full of benevolence, aren’t you Malfoy? You wouldn’t dream of acting on your _‘first and foremost intentions’_ – ever, would you?”

“You’re in no position to judge my intentions, Potter,” the addressed growled.

“And what exactly would those be, Malfoy?! If I wouldn’t already – _know_ – about you little – _arrangement_ – I’d think you were trying to sneak into her knickers.”

“I’m not!” Malfoy snapped with uncharacteristic rage all of a sudden.

“Indeed?” Harry scoffed. “Well, you wouldn’t have already succeeded to get there, would you, Malfoy? Since if you ask me, it looks quite a lot like it. Mmm… Just in case you aren’t – don’t be too disappointed once you – _do_ – her, since there isn’t much to get. But, well… you probably already know, don’t you?” he called loud enough for the entire class to hear.

His vile comment was striking a bunch of murmur and some nervous laughter amongst the students. Everyone appeared to be eager not to miss a single word of their argument while Madam Hooch was still far off down the field.

“You seem a little confounded, Potter,” Malfoy stated regaining his nonchalance although Hermione could tell from the glitter of his eyes he was still furious.

“I dare say your argumentation is somewhat lacking its logic. Come again, what exactly did you say you’re accusing me of? Doing her once? Twice? Possibly even repeatedly – over and over again? Or rather of attempting to do her? Pressuring her to do me? Hey, if you think of it long enough, maybe you can make up a possibility of _her_ pressuring _me_ to comply with her wishes?! As it’s well known what kind of loose and scarlet woman she is. It’s just _typical_ of her to force herself upon me or sleep around for little favours. Just _everyone_ knows she’s lacking any backbone and intelligence and gets easily tricked and frightened. She wouldn’t _dream_ of it to stand up and punch me in the face for daring to force myself upon her! No, no she’d never ever do such a thing!”

The class was howling with laughter by now.

“I congratulate you on your talent to make up perfect crab, Potter. Maybe Rita Sceeter will offer you a carrier as her ghost writer! I just can’t decide which of your pitiful little tales is the most stupefied.”

“I might actually believe there wasn’t a thing going on between the two of you, if you wouldn’t try to deny it so badly, Malfoy,” Harry snapped.

“When did I ever deny that?”

“You… what… WHAT!?”

“I never said there wasn’t a thing going on between the two of us, did I?”

“So you…you’re telling us…”

“Wrong again, Potter! I’m telling you nothing. It’s you who is jumping to conclusions and telling tales here, not me. You’re the one with the smutty imagination.”

“Speaking of telling tales, Malfoy, I’m not the one with the monologue problem here,” Harry croaked hoarsely.

“And if I wouldn’t already know you were shagging the faithless little Weasellette I’d be truly worried for Brown’s virtuousness – but considering she’s dating the male Weas-”

“Bugger off, Malfoy and leave my sister and my girlfriend out of this!” Ron mixed into the argument but was entirely ignored by the opponents.

“Don’t change the subject,” Harry began with a nasty smile, “I don’t know what all this unforeseen fussing over Hermione is to you, anyway. And don’t tell me you suddenly discovered your soft spot for her, I’m not buying that. How can we be sure you’re not just eager to make her pay as you threatened her at the train? Yes that’s the most logical explanation for that alien behaviour of yours, I suppose.”

“You know a crap of a shit, Potter!” Malfoy flew out at him in totally a un-malfoy-like way, his cheeks burning with fury all of a sudden.

“You’re twisting everything to fit your motives! You don’t care about _anything_ but yourself, do you? You… Did you ever even think about what pain all of this maliciousness causes her? Just leave, Potter! Leave and stop bothering her!”

“Oh really –” Harry snorted sarcastically. Touching his chest in a gesture of mock empathy he added: “This is touching. _So_ touching, really!”

“Shut up, Potter! You’re a nasty, heartless bastard to treat her as you do! You don’t – _deserve_ – her friendship let alone anything more and I say, she’s lots better of without you! Sneaking off with the Weasellette was the best thing you could ever do to – Hermione!!”

Harry watched this uncharacteristic emotional and uncalculated move of his enemy with undeniable interest. Mockery and triumph were reflecting in his emerald-eyes.

“ _Hermione?_ ” he mimicked, “Ohh –so it’s – _Hermione_ – now? How touching! You wouldn’t be endangered to become desperately infatuated with your little _‘arrangement’_ , would you? As you see – Daddy Dearest – wouldn’t be at all pleased – don’t you think so? But then, hey, what ever you try to make us believe, Malfoy, I still dare say your – _heart_ – isn’t the ‘ _first and foremost_ ’ part of your anatomy that’s interested in her! So maybe Daddy Dearest won’t be that scared…”  

“Who gives you the right to judge on that, Potter?! It’s you who’s acting like a hormone driven jackass, not me!!” Malfoy flew out at him. “Maybe I simply – _like_ – her. Maybe I enjoy her company. Maybe, yes – just think of it Potter – maybe I _enjoy_ to actually talk and listen to her; maybe I like the sound of her voice and laughter and maybe I’m impressed by the immensity of her empathy, wit and ability. Did you ever take the time to muse over those matters? She’s precious, Potter. She’s unique and you failed to value the treasure you once held. Therefore – I can very well imagine you must be really pissed.”

“Ahem – just in case you didn’t notice – that sounds strikingly spellbound, Malfoy, you know?” Harry taunted, “ _Awfully_ and _hopelessly_ infatuated! If I wouldn’t know _so muc_ h better I’d say you might actually end up soiling your ever so valued pure-blooded pedigree by falling under a trashy little Mudblood’s spell?”

Dead silence fell at that shocking premise. Everyone stood rooted to their spots and just stared waiting for Malfoy’s reaction.

“Don’t say that!” was the immediate and sharp reply. Like everyone expected he was boiling with rage at that accusation. But it was Malfoy’s next statement that really caused a sensation.

“I don’t want to hear _any_ more of this! She’s a _witch_! A brilliant, outstanding and talented _witch_!!”

“Come again?” Harry inquired, thunderstruck, “I must be hallucinating!”

“I _forbid_ you to call her a Mudblood!” Malfoy shouted even more furious now.

“She’s the most gifted and intelligent witch I’ve ever met and her heritage doesn’t have – _anything_ – to do with it!”

After the first shock a wide grin appeared at Harry’s face. “Good one, Malfoy,” he snorted, “really comical indeed. If it was anyone but you telling that tale we might become truly convinced. Now, _do_ tell me you’re joking!”

But this time there was no response from the blond Slytherin who merely clenched his jaw.

At that Harry’s eyes narrowed into small slits as he contemplated his opponent with an air of confusion.

“What do you hope to gain by this? It‘s a trick, isn’t it? It has to be… Oh yes, it is! Interesting tactics, indeed! I’m _so_ sorry to spoil your idle little plans, Malfoy! Might I dare to believe it… the ever so haughty, arrogant Malfoy heir – putting up with – or should I rather say – _drooling over_ – my leftovers? A girl of non magical heritage, I might add! So you’re actually attempting to screw her, Malfoy! I don’t even _dare_ to imagine the two of you getting it on… That’s so… _disgusting_ …it’s …outraging…it’s…”

“Well, whatever you suppose it to be. _Fortunately_ – it’s none of your bloody business anymore, Potter! So would you be so – _kind_ – to JUST SHUT UP – before I’ll wring your bloody, pathetic neck?”

“Now, now, language, Malfoy! Language,” Harry taunted, lamely and obviously thunderstruck this time. “I wouldn’t have thought that a well-bred pure-blood wizard like you would have such foul speaking patterns. I see it doesn’t suit your plans to see your petty little motives questioned, huh? I’m _so_ sorry. What can I ever do to make up for it.”

“Drop dead,” the addressed drawled, slowly regaining his nonchalance.

After all the pressure she had just endured, Hermione was not quite able to control her emotions and burst out laughing.

“He was – _right_! You are a traitorous little turncoat!” Ron leashed out at her.

Hermione paled at the amount of open malice in her erstwhile companion’s voice.

“I’m not…” she began to defend herself but was cut short by the red-head’s next words.

“You _are_! I’m disappointed in you, Hermione! I truly am. I supposed there was more to you than this. To turn against your friends because of some foolish, honey-coated words of a git you used to hate. That’s low – very low! It’s dishonourable.”

Hermione could literally see Malfoy gritting his teeth as he dashed forward.

“You! What do – _you_ – know?! How _dare_ you to speak to her like that!? Leave her alone!” he snapped, “Both of you! If you want a quarrel with me – _gladly_! _Anytime!_ But don’t you _dare_ hurting her! She hasn’t done _anything_ to deserve such treatment from you! She proved herself to be nothing but an altruistic, loyal friend to the both of you these past few years – and _that’s_ how you happen to repay it?! Excuse me to be not impressed! She’s pure and kind and .… and…. And _you_ were supposed to be her _friends_ once?! You should be ashamed! Just get lost and stop bothering her! She’s flying with ME and that’s final!” 

OO 

“Yes, I think that’s probably the best idea,” Hermione declared, resolutely ending the argument before it could proceed any worse. She was still shocked by Malfoy’s unexpected and completely uncharacteristic open display of protectiveness and respect towards her.

She softly touched his forearm in an appeasing gesture and smiled at the outraged blond Slytherin.

“Thank you for that offer, Malfoy, I’ll gladly take it.”

At this a most peculiar change run through the addressed. His eyes softening he looked at her – fondly.

“You’re welcome. You truly are,” he murmured contemplating her hand resting on his arm with an air of confusion.

When he leaned forward, to whisper into her ear, she was so distracted at the funny feeling of a strand of his hair brushing past her cheek that she almost missed what he said.

“I’m sorry for causing such trouble, but I’m really glad you’ll fly with me instead. Weasley doesn’t know that you might get dizzy. He might drop you, if you do…” he muttered, his warm breath brushing against her cheek, reminding her of… Oh no, she would not think of THAT now!

So she just nodded, feeling slightly dazed at his closeness and the fact that he seemingly felt the urge to justify his actions towards her.

“And you could have hardly even considered flying with Longbottom, you’d better headed for the hospital wing straight away,” he added under his breath, sounding kind of worried as well as somewhat amused all of a sudden, “ – you should do anyway, but I know you’re not willing to discuss that matter right now. Let’s talk about this in the evening, shall we?” he added almost affectionately. At her surprised expression he explained: “My mother sent some new tea the day before and I thought, well, I just thought, I… . I would enjoy sharing a cup of it with you. If you like…?”

Hermione just looked at him – speechless.

“It’s proper tea,” he added smiling, “without any need to fear for serious hair-loss, I promise.”

The mischievous smile they shared made Hermione’s heartbeat flutter.

Without further thinking Malfoy reached for a stray strand of her hair to brush it back, cupping her cheek in the process.

“Will you come?” he asked almost pleadingly. “I would be glad. Please, say you will…”

“I…” Hermione began, tentatively, feeling dizzy from the wondrous closeness rather than her current condition. It was only then she realised the pad of Malfoy’s thumb was caressing her cheek, while his fingertips slipped into her hair behind the ear.

“What’re you doing?!” she gasped at the intensity of the feathery light touch.

He blinked.

For a split second Hermione gazed into eyes wide, blue and startled.

Then Malfoy’s familiar smirk appeared– only that it held no malice but mirth and mischief that added sparkles to his eyes and caused Hermione’s stomach some more fluttering.

“Honestly, Granger, it’s about time someone introduces to use of a comb to you! You’re already sprouting cobwebs in your hair,” he teased as he swept away that strand of curly hair behind her ear, picking some dusty filaments out of her curls in the process.

“What? Oh-h-ho…really?” With a mischievous grin she added: “I didn’t think you would notice. It appears to become fashionable, I suppose. If I could only remember where I’ve seen it lately…”

“You don’t remember? Oh that’s too bad… I would have been so glad to know whether you liked that sight,” he jollied.

“You _really_ want to know?” she asked, smiling broadly now.

“But yes!” he declared in mock seriousness. “I just terribly care for a person’s opinion who confuses cobwebs with hairdo.”

“So, do I?” she demanded, eyes glittering with hilarity.

“Was that a question, or rather a statement, Granger? I’m not quite sure whether I did hear its mark,” he teased.

“Do you?” he asked, carefully, though not quite serious still when she didn’t answer straight away. “Really?”

“Well, probably,” she finally declared just as carefully.

For a moment they both smiled at each other.

“Probably.”

It was only then Hermione realised that all of their classmates’ eyes were still fixed on the two of them and excited little whispers were once again erupting everywhere around.

“Ahem- we should – _probably_ – get onto that broom now,” she mouthed, rolling her eyes.

With a nod of agreement and a casual flick of his wrist, Malfoy caused his Nimbus 2007 to lift in the air.

Slightly lowering his palm he ordered the broom to sink a few inches lower so that she could mount it more easily.

“After you,” he stated and Hermione could not quite tell whether his politeness was honest or fake. 

OO 

As soon as she had mounted the Nimbus, its shiny ebony stick started to softly switch and vibrate and Hermione felt the material literally heat up beneath her touch. A little frightened she increased the pressure of her grip. This was a hell of a racing broom. And it was obvious eager to take off.

She was actually glad to feel Malfoy slip into the space behind her. Only a split second later they kicked off the ground.

Once the broom spiralled upwards, Hermione’s grip tightened even more and just as she clutched it more tightly the broom seemed to wriggle out of her grip.

Within an instant, before she could get so much as really afraid, Malfoy’s arms closed tightly around her to hold her safely in place.

“Granger,” he pressed out, so close that she could feel the brush of his breath on her cheek. “Let go of my broom!”

Almost seventy feet above the ground this was the last thing Hermione had in mind.

“What?!” she gasped, holding only tighter to the broom handle. The polished wooden material felt slippery in her grip.

“My broom’s confused!” Malfoy bit out. “You’re distracting it, Granger.”

“I’m - What – oh - OH?”

Another sharp tug nearly got her out of her seat. But before she lost balance, Malfoy hugged her closer – just in time.

“Granger, listen, my broom… it doesn’t know whose command to follow. It’ll kick us off if we don’t solve this soon, so let GO!”

Hermione gulped. Casting a nervous glance to the ground far beneath, she slowly removed one hand from the struggling, uncooperative broom but put it back in an instant.

“But Draco! I… can’t… I’m gonna fall… I’m afraid! Draco. Draco!!!” she gasped, close to tears.

Surprisingly soft and calm under the current conditions came the response, just as Malfoy’s arms and knees tightened around her shoulders and legs.

“I know you are, but you have to trust me. Lean into me, I won’t let you fall, Hermio- ”

The rest of his words was muffled by her slamming into his chest at another violent upwards twist the broom made. She was almost positive that Malfoy had meant to call her by her first name – again – but it was not the most urgent thing on her mind, now that they were almost hanging upside down.  

It was terrifying anddireful but as soon as Hermione let go of the broomstick, the flight smoothened.

The wildly spiralling broom eased its pace and swiftly followed Malfoy’s every command. Far below Hermione could see the sunlight glittering on the vast silvery area of the lake. 

OO 

Only then she released the breath she had not been aware she had been holding.

Still shaking she allowed herself to collapse against Malfoy who felt consoling and solid against her back.

Since she did not have any better spot to place her hands now that she had to avoid touching the broom handle Hermione flung both of her arms round herself.

Despite the fact that the broom was gliding smoothly along now she sensed a well familiar feeling of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach after all the raging twists and turns.

Closing her eyes against the unbidden sickness, she tried to inhale as much fresh air as possible but the feeling of nausea and dizziness seemed to only increase at each breath she took.

Cold sweat was covering her forehead and back. She felt weak and shaken and utterly helpless. This simply wasn’t fair...

Gasping for breath Hermione tried to bit back the sour feeling of bile rising in her throat. This was no good – this was no good at all… And it got worse with each and every second...

She was well aware of the fact that if she had not skipped lunch she would not have lasted as long as she did. But it was to no use still… Too much trouble. Too much fear. Too much twists and turns in mid air…

It was just then Malfoy hugged her even more tightly than before. “It’s all right,” he whispered softly, “you’ll manage.”

“I’m sick,” she whimpered helplessly, “I’m so sick! I’ll, I’ll... I think I’m going to vomit... oh no, no... ”

Just then Hermione felt one of Malfoy’s hands slip beneath her own hands that were still tightly clutched round herself.

“You won’t,” he whispered, “you’ll be fine. Everything is going to be fine. But you need to trust me. Just concentrate to breathe calmly. Not too quick. Yes that’s better… In-and-out…. in-and out… Yes, that’s fine… That fine…Hermione. Trust me…”

With a movement of utter tenderness he touched the very spot to cover her highly upset stomach and with that a most curious change occurred to her.

The very moment Malfoy’s hand cupped her stomach a warmth began to spread from his palm while his fingertips brushed downwards to cup her belly, encouraging her to relax and to ever so slightly lean into his palm with each and every breath she took.

His touch – as feathery light as it was – set her skin aflame with a shower of electricity that seemed to spread all over her body but it were his words that truly reached her soul...

“Yes. I’ll hold you – you know that I do. You can rely on me. You sense you can. Don’t fight it. Just – _be_ – in my arms. Be with me. Do it – Hermione – just give in… Close your eyes… Stop questioning… Stop reasoning… Just feel… I’m here. I’m right here holding you and I won’t let you go, don’t you worry...”

Shivering she leaned further back to snuggle her cheek into the curve of his neck as his fingertips brushed across the damp hair of her temple.

“I’m here. Hermione.”

She whimpered once again… But this time she did hardly remember to have ever felt anything else but – loved and sheltered…

For a moment she creased thinking at all. She just felt – Malfoy’s warm and solid body in her back – his arms surrounding her – his comforting palm cupping her belly – his warm breath brushing her cheek as he finally spoke...

“Now open your eyes again,” he whispered rubbing her upper arm. “It’s better now, isn’t it?”

Slowly regaining her self-control Hermione nodded. “Yes,” she croaked, her voice still slightly hoarse, “ahem.. yes, lots of better… But… how…how does…”

Before she could question the wondrous change any further, Malfoy already continued: “There are two possibilities as I see it now. You can either keep hold of my arms instead of the broomstick – this will be a little difficult once I have to make finer moves, like slaloms or loops, but if we keep the pace slow it should do.”

“OK, I see. And what’s the other option?” Hermione asked.

“You let me seal your magic.”

“W-WHAT?!”

“It’ll allow you to touch my broomstick and hold onto it, without affecting it by your magic. Don’t be afraid, the effect is only temporary. It’ll were off once we land and more importantly, it’ll dissolve should something happen to me.”

“What are you speaking of?”

“Well, say I get knocked off my broom by a collision with another flyer, or hurt by some curse. You’d be able to take over from then.”

“That’s – very interesting. I – haven’t ever heard about such magic,” she frowned, irritated. “How does that work?”

Once again the smug Malfoy-grin was back in place. “Of course you wouldn’t. I’d be most surprised if you had, being a Mud-err a Muggleborn,” he stated.

At her tense reaction he added uncomfortably: “I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just out of habit, I suppose… but… Never mind… It’s an ancient magic accord, built on trust and care. Whenever my parents travel by broomstick, they… Well, as I say, it’s an old tradition.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Hermione whispered a little cautiously now.

“Look at me,” he declared, “you have to hold eye contact with the person you sign the contact with.”

Hermione shifted slightly in her seat and craned her neck so that she could gaze at Malfoy.

He looked – breathtaking – the silvery-blond hair ruffled by the slight breeze up here, his cheeks fairly flushed, the bluish-grey eyes bright and sparkling as he smiled at her. But he also looked very serious and reassuring.

“All right. What now?” she muttered feeling all light-headed and confused by his closeness and the oddity of the situation.

“Now you are to rise your wand hand and press your palm against mine. Then you tell me that you trust me to guide you on this flight,” he told her gently.

Hesitatingly Hermione raised her right hand, just as Malfoy lifted his left.

“Like this?” she asked softly just as her palm pressed against his and he nodded.

“Yes… that’s… ough…"

“What is it?” she asked, startled, but Malfoy shook his head instead of an explanation.

“Nothing,” he muttered, tensely. “Now say it.”

“I trust you to guide me,” Hermione uttered, locking her eyes with his.

Once she had spoken she felt what had made Malfoy gasp. Very fine, bluish-white sparks emitted from the contact of their palms and a warm tickling sensation was spreading from her palm upwards to build a warm soft patch of comfort in her chest.

“I promise to safely guide you,” he whispered back and the feeling of warmth even increased.  

Very slowly and carefully Malfoy entwined his fingers with hers to finally cover her hand with his as he placed it around the shiny ebony handle in front of them. “I think it’s safe for you to touch the broomstick now,” he muttered.

For a moment the both held their breaths, but nothing happened. Finally Hermione put her other hand to the broom handle as well.

“That’s… _fascinating_ … Does that mean I can’t do magic – not even the tiniest of spells – right now?” she asked.

“Only temporary,” he reassured her gently, “but yes, you just willingly put some kind of seal around your powers to avoid further confusion. Do you feel uncomfortable about it?” he asked slightly concerned.

After she contemplated that thought for a moment, Hermione shook her head.

“I probably should, but no… No. Surprisingly enough I’m not troubled at all!”

“That’s because this spell can only be conjured if both parts really truly mean what they say. Otherwise it just wouldn’t work,” Malfoy explained carefully.  

“Oh, I’m burning to find out more about that spell,” Hermione declared, fascinated. “I really never heard or read about it before. Can you tell me why is was necessary to cast it at all?”

After a moment of silence, Malfoy cleared his throat. “I suppose, well… it’s because our powers are equal. Apparently your magic is just as strong as mine. Exactly the same. That’s rare. The broom got confused because it is used to submit to the stronger partner.”

“Oh, but… this never happened before. Whenever I flew with Harry…”

“Did you touch the broom then? If I remember it right you used to sit in the backseat holding on to him. So you can’t know for sure, can you? But even if you possibly did touch the handle, well… Jackass or not, Potter _is_ a powerful wizard there’s no denying that. As much as it pains me to say it, but his magic is probably stronger than yours – and mine.”

For a couple of seconds neither of them spoke, both contemplating that thought. Finally Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her.

“You mentioned your parents before,” she began carefully, “does that mean their magic is equal, too?”

“Yes, that’s where I know that spell from,” Malfoy explained hesitatingly.  “They…” 

OO 

The sharp blow of a whistle cut through any further musings about that matter.

Madame Hooch ordered the class to lower down, hovering a few feet above the ground and build a circle around her.

“That was quickly acted, Mr. Malfoy, my compliment. You managed to avoid serious injury. Fifteen points to Slytherin.”

With that she turned to the class. “Listen everyone! I ordered you to come down for a short explanation. What you’ve just witnessed is the rare occasion of magic equally strong arranging with one another.”

Suspicious gazes followed that surprising explanation, but the Professor already continued, excitedly: “I’ve never seen it before as it’s very rare and difficult to handle. First of all it’s wandless magic, which you all know is difficult to perform. On top of that this spell requires complete honesty in both participants. Both partners need to mean _exactly_ what they tell each other. This kind of ancient magic requires lots of trust and care…”

“OK – sure…” Ron uttered darkly.

“So you’re telling us that Malfoy and Hermione are somewhat _smitten_ with one another?” Neville blurted out accusingly.

“I wouldn’t word it in exactly the same way, Mr. Longbottom, but well… let’s say that you need to trust one another to a very great amount to perform such magic. You can’t lie, or sign a contact like this half-heartedly. It’s simply not possible.”

There was more than one piercing stare Hermione felt after that explanation. She heard Madam Hooch explain what Malfoy had told her about the broom earlier, but her mind was way too busy to sort out her own emotions, which happened to be a blur of utter confusion right now. 

OO 

As the lesson continued, Hermione once again wondered how comfortable she felt at tandem flying with Malfoy despite her temporary loss of magic. They did not discuss the matter any further. In fact they did not speak at all. Both of them apparently aware of the fact that the entire class was watching them.

Finally, when they worked along the day’s racing track, the Slytherin seeker did not fly at top speed as usual, nor did he lift his broom any higher than about six feet above the ground. Therefore it was no wonder they passed the finish line second last with only Neville and Hannah in their tracks.  

And Hermione could not help but wonder whether this was due to the fact the broom might be still distracted or rather its flyer. 

**OO**

Draco Malfoy paced the floor of his living room with unease. Outside the high windows a velvety blue darkness settled over the grounds of Hogwarts. Despite the evening’s beauty he did not cast the view a second glance, though.

The day had been clearly difficult, though not unpleasant.

First that curious encounter in the broom shed which he did not intend to mull over too closely right now – then there had been the argument with Potter where he had been irregular flurried and conspicuous in his attempts to speak up for one special bushy-haired muggelborn Gryffindor. A thought which left him wondering why on earth it was so important to him to keep her safe, happy and undisturbed...

Not to mention that flight – with all its curious unexpected developments… Conjuring up that spell of Trust and Care had truly shaken his insides in a disturbing way he was not willing to mull over either...

Why the heck was all of this so bloody complicated? Couldn’t he have continued to peacefully hate her – like he did when she’d been just Granger the annoying Mudblood to him?

This was another fact troubling him. He did not even – think – of her as Granger anymore. Instead of this her first name had slipped from his lips on several occasions recently. And did he really snap at Potter for calling her a Mudblood today?! This was no good. This was no good at all…

Unless people did not suspect him to act like this for some very evil and dark purpose his reputation was truly shattered.

As if all of this were not complicated enough already he was now considering to head for her quarters to see whether she was all right and how she coped with the day’s happenings.

Like he had told her earlier he would have enjoyed to share a cup of tea with her.

But the fact that she had neither accepted nor denied his attempt left him rather uncertain and worried whether or not he would be welcome. Maybe she just wanted to relax after today’s troubles? How could he be sure she would not just accept out of politeness?

Nonetheless he wanted to see her before he could put all those thoughts at rest.  

Maybe he could just check on her and see whether she asked him to enter or not. It would have been a little odd to walk up all the way to the owlery and send Noctua when the addressee was living just next door, wasn’t it? Beside of that he would not really know what to write. He did not want any information after all. He wanted to see her.

Well so far for convincing himself that he just wanted to know if she was all right…

Oh hell, was it really imaginable that he was falling for her? This could not be true! It was just so – not – possible…

To escape those worrisome musings Draco decided to just walk over to see her so he could prove himself there was nothing to worry about. 

 **OO**  

Her legs drawn beneath herself Hermione sat at the couch in front of the flickering fireplace contemplating her mother’s letter, thoughtfully. She still had no idea how to tell her parents the most urgent news.

As little as she had told them about Voldemort and the upcoming war to spare them serious worries they had become more and more suspicious over the years nonetheless. More than once they had suggested she might give up on Hogwarts and return to the muggle world instead. As if she would have been safe there…

It was more than likely that they would try everything to convince her to leave for the muggle world once she told them about her condition now. She knew they just meant to protect her but she did not want to give up upon magic. It was part of her.

Smiling, she remembered how eager she had been to prove the safe return of her powers to herself after she had reached her quarters after Flying class. For about two hours she had practiced Transfigurations and Charms until she had been utterly exhausted but happily convinced there was no lasting effect of that spell of Trust and Care.

Surprisingly enough she had not worried at all as long as Malfoy had been with her. She had not doubted that effect was – like he had said – only temporary.

So far she had not allowed herself to think about the day’s happenings, though. She had tried her best to worm herself around any train of thought that might lead her into the wrong direction so as… the broom shed… the argument… his fierce way to defend her against Harry’s nastiness… the flight… the feelings that had captured her when he had held her close…or smiled at her… the way her heartbeat had quickened whenever they had looked at each other… Well those were quite a couple of reasons to better not dare to think about Malfoy at all! Nonetheless she just _longed_ to see him again, which was not at all tend to calm her already highly troubled nerves...   

OO 

When there was a knock at the door she sighed, feeling quite unable to put up with any Head Girl’s business after this stressful day.

But when she got up to answer the door it was no one else but _Malfoy_ who stood in front of her – a fact that caused her heartbeat to quicken once again…

He looked kind of troubled, too.

“Oh, it’s you! What do you want?” she gasped. Even to herself her words sounded disapprovingly.

At his startled flinch she added more friendly: “I mean what can I do for you? Did anything happen?”

“No, ummm, I… I just wanted to… see how you are…” he stammered uncomfortably.

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” she smiled, “I’m quite all right, I suppose. Thank you.”

Malfoy literally bit his lip when he looked at her quite unhappy as it seemed.

“You look fagged out,” he finally stated.

“Yes, yes I guess I am,” Hermione sighed.

At this another expression of uncertainty slipped over his features. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course you are! I should better go then. I mean I didn’t intend to disturb you…”

“No! Oh no, no, come in, please,” she told him, hurriedly.

“Really?” he asked almost timidly, “I don’t want to bother you…”

“You’re not bothering me! I… It would be really nice if you kept me some company. Come in please.”

With that she lead him to the second couch at the fireplace, opposite to her own. When they took their seats Malfoy’s gaze fell onto the letter which had fallen to the floor when she had stood up to answer the door before.

“Is it that letter you got on Thursday?” he frowned.

Her head snapped up in surprise. “How do you know?”

“I noticed.”

“What? Me getting a letter?”

He nodded. “Yes. And… You looked upset. I’ve been wondering… Did you get any bad news?”

“No, not really. It’s just my mother… She asks me to come home for the Christmas holidays and bring Harry along and…”

“So she doesn’t know yet?”

“What?”

“About you being pregnant, nor that you’ve broken up with Potter?”

“Neither.”

“Can’t you tell her?”

Hermione shrugged, uncomfortably, “I probably _could_ , but… I don’t think… Well, it’s complicated, you see?”

“Mmmm, yes, of course it is. But you need to sort things out nonetheless. It’s hardly anything that could be denied, is it? So, did you already decide what to do about it, yet?” he asked nodding in the direction of her stomach.

                

 **A/N:** Thank you lots for the feedback! I’m so glad you like this story.

#### Smiles, Serpentina

 


	16. Ancient wand less magic, right?

“No,” Hermione responded tensely, shaking her head. “I didn’t decide anything yet. No.”

Much to her relief Malfoy did not press the matter seemingly sensing her discomfort. 

Tilting his head aside he contemplated her for a while before he spoke again with a now more light tone in his voice: “How did you get yourself into that trouble anyway? I mean with you and Potter being so _smart_ all the time?”

He flashed her a mocking smile as he continued: “Did you mess up a spell? Forgot to take a potion, or what?” 

“Neither,” Hermione muttered with unease. Just as she had expected Malfoy’s eyebrows rose questionably at that declaration. 

“Pardon?” he muttered. 

Hermione cleared her throat. “I said… we umm… had used none of those.” 

At that the confused expression on Malfoy’s face changed into a frown.

“Well,” he drawled, “you can hardly wonder about the result then, can you?”

At her confused look he added cocky: “Honestly, if you got it on just like that… It’s no surprise he knocked you up in no time, is it? What the hell have the two of you been thinking?! Nothing at all?” 

Hermione just glowed ruby. 

“As far as Potter is concerned I have no problem imagining that, but with _you_ … I would have considered _you_ to be more thoughtful and sensible.” 

Hermione doubted that anyone had ever become more red than she did. She blushed to the roots of her hair as she shook her head in response. At Malfoy’s blunt look she felt truly stupid.

“No that’s not what I meant!” she stammered. “We _did_ take precautions, of course! Just no magical ones! Although I seriously considered brewing contraceptive potion because Harry tried to constantly talk me into…. Well, never mind… I… meant we … usedarubberinstead!” 

“What?” Malfoy asked, looking completely thunderstruck now. 

“I said we had used a rubber instead,” Hermione repeated clearly uncomfortable about the way their conversation was proceeding. 

“A rubber???” Malfoy frowned disbelievingly. “What for?” 

“What for?!” Hermione flew out at him. “Honestly, Malfoy, do you enjoy to make me feel uncomfortable!?” 

“Well, frankly told, yes! But that’s not the point of it!” he gave back just as heatedly. “You may be a bookworm and know-it-all, Granger, but not even YOU can seriously consider using writing material for protection! So, WHAT the heck are you talking about?!” 

“A rubber,” she repeated with irritation. “And - I’m NOT a know-it-all!” 

When Malfoy still looked no more enlightened she added: “A prophylactic? A sheath? A condom? Does this ring any bell?”

Completely thunderstruck she realised that he _still_ had no idea what she was talking about and suddenly a thought occurred to her.

A little more calmly she asked: “You _know_ what that is, don’t you?”

She could tell from the stubborn way his jaw was set that he did not, even before he sharply shook his head.

“You don’t,” she concluded bewildered. 

“No!” he half heartedly admitted. “Say I wouldn’t, should I?! It’s probably some silly Muggle stuff - and for all it looks like it doesn’t work very well, does it!?” 

Despite her troubles Hermione’s lips switched in sudden amusement of the oddity of the situation. Only a week ago having such a conversation with Draco Malfoy would have been the last thing imaginable. 

“You are completely oblivious, aren’t you?”

 “So then, what is it? Care to enlighten me?” he asked with an air of annoyance and stubbornness that caused Hermione’s mood to soften. 

“It is a little sheath you… emm… Harr… emrr… He… I mean the…. the _boy_ wears it above his… Well, at having sex… to guarantee no seed will reach the girl’s body to impregnate her.” 

“Worked out incredibly well,” he mumbled darkly and once again she had to bit her lip not to laugh. She could not believe it but as unlikely as it was she had to explain it to him, while her explanations were now and then interrupted by comments like: “Ah.”

And: “Oh.”

And: “Really?”  Which was not truly helpful to spare her trouble. 

Hermione forced herself to look at Malfoy, despite the fact that she was literally glowing with embarrassment. He appeared to be just as discomposed as she felt. All indifference and mockery left. His cheeks were not only pink, but bright red as well and his appearance was somewhat lacking its nonchalance. She was already tend to forgive him the discomfort he had caused her, when he spoiled it all.

“You’re joking!” he declared, flabbergasted, before he finally broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. 

“You suppose that’s funny, don’t you?” she snapped fuming wit rage. A prang of pain clutching her heart at his sudden lack of sympathy – just when she had opened up towards him and had struggled against her own embarrassment to be patient, sincere and right out honest with him, despite her embarrassment. 

“Funny?” he panted, “oh no, no that’s not just funny – that’s h-hi-hilarious! Imagining Potter wearing a plastic bag round his privates ta-haa… Oh-h-honestly you _can’t_ be serious about that! I never thought Muggles were – _this_ – comical!” 

“They’re not?! Hermione snapped back at him. How - _dare_ – you make fun of my inheritance and laugh about matters you don’t have a clue about!?! You don’t have the shadow of an idea of what life is like without magic! Mr. Stuck-up-pureblooded-I-have-three-Houseelves-at my-call –to oblique-to-my-every-wishes-and-every- thinkable-magical-item-to-increese-my-lucury- so-I-wouldn’t-even –dream-of-fixing-my-tea-by-hand-or-anything-like-that-Malfoy!!! Have you ever tried to spent a single day - let alone the holydays - without any help of magic!?” 

“Wow! It’s not my fault you’re unaware of how to fix proper tea, is it?” he teased. “And - well, actually it’s about five elves most of the time, but I guess that’s no betterment in your opinion?” he tried to lighten the track of their conversation, but obviously failed as the frown of her face only deepened and she merely dismissed his interjection with an unwilling growl. 

“Not at all! But that’s a different discussion. Honestly, Malfoy, have you ever tried to – _willingly_ \- foreswear any help of magic just so you knew you could? Have you? As I did. After I found out about being a witch of course – and I found it extremely hard to resist. A little charm here a quick spell there and thereon and before you even realise - unless you concentrate on your non-magical day really heard – you have already cast a spell or you do use anything magical before you even realise. I bet _you_ wouldn’t even last half the time I did. Try it, before you dare to laugh at something you have no notion of! To deal with little matters you’re used to solve by a quick little charm Muggles have developed technologies far beyond those our world even knows about. There are whole branches of industry and countless jobs built around matters like electricity, traffic, medicine, or information, technology or media. Apart from magic our world is much more ancient even purist compared to the Muggleworld.” 

“Wow,” he simply stated uncharacteristically defensively still: “Wow that’s interesting, you see?” 

“What?” she snapped, still fuming. 

“Well, you’re supporting Muggle-life like a lioness guarding her kitten, but you’re still referring to the magical world as ours, that’s interesting.” 

“What’s interesting about that? I’m a witch!” 

“Yes, you are, but you a also born a Muggle.”

Defensively he raised his hands. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault I’m born a wizard. Besides that – I couldn’t do proper magic when I was little! So I _do_ know how to get along without it!”

“That’s not the same _at all_!! You _knew_ there was!” she exclaimed with passion. “You knew about the whole richness of the magical world with all its possibilities around you. Waiting for you to gain your powers to become part of it – _active_ – part. I bet you never served detention at primary school because of curious happenings involving yourself, a piece of chalk and the classmates who disliked you because you where ambitious, do you?” 

“Hm?? I didn’t attend any primary school and I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m able to follow you…” 

“I’m speaking of all the frightening, confusing and troublesome things happening to a Muggleborn once strings of magic appear out of the blue, frightening the death out of them with no one around to even imagine the existence of magic other than in a fairytale, let alone welcome it or able to explain what’s going on. I bet for YOU it was quite a different experience!” 

“Why are you so mean to me? It isn’t my fault that my parents are magical! And just as you’re asking: Yes, indeed, when I was not quite five and father’s dogs frightened my cat so that it climbed up the old ash tree at the front lawn unable to get down by itself and got endangered to fall, I suddenly found myself 60 feet above the ground, clutching the branches for dear life, while clutching Timmy to my chest, crying at the top of my lungs for Mummy to get us down. Very pleasant indeed!” 

Hermione’s heart just flew out at him at that! 

“Of course my parents where _proud_! After my little ass was saved by my house elf nanny who appeared quickly enough to levitate both of us down and –magically- healed Timmy’s scratches on my forearms, chest and chin so I wouldn’t be scarred for life; after myself and everyone else had calmed down; yes. Yes you are right; by then it was quite a party!” 

“Just you wait how you’ll feel once your little one will set their magic free! Because – like it or not; that baby you are carrying is bound to be a magical child who will perform acts of unaware magic before he or she starts at Hogwarts.” 

“You will be proud at the proof that he or she is just like we are – I mean our kind - just like you – and …him… and you’ll be the more proud the more powerful their powers appear to be. So _don’t_ judge me for being celebrated and rewarded by my parents that day!” 

“Malfoy,” Hermione began frustrated… but he was too excited to react. 

“Just imagine how _alien_ your suggestion must be for me! If not even _you_ – who come from a non magical family - can last a day without doing magic since you grew aware of its existence. How shall _I_ feel? My family is magical for thousands and thousands of years! Long before the Founders even dreamed of building Hogwarts. Long before the Romans expanded into the world, even long before the first Olympic Games took place, the Malfoy family was magical without the hint of Muggle influence. And before you snap my head off - that’s no judgement - it’s a fact!” 

“There was magic all around me even before I was born. Before my grand-grand-grandfather’s grand-grand-grandfather was born. It runs in my blood – _literately_. It’s part of what I _am_! I can’t _imagine_ life without. I would be completely lost! I can’t pretend to be non magical. I have no idea how to lead a life like that! So don’t you judge me for being none of your precious Muggles! I’m not. And I can’t be!” 

“Malfoy, I get the point!” Hermione snapped, “You’re the most pure-blooded little tomfool walking the halls of Hogwarts…” 

“Granger,” he sighed, apparently enervated, but she cut him short with an unwilling shake of her head. 

“And just since you’re NOT bothering;” she snarled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Its not just _pregnancy_ a condom is able to prevent! There are a couple of very bad diseases threatening those with no magical genome to shield them!” 

He obviously tried to calm down, taking a deep breath, but did not really succeed.

“Quite possibly,” he admitted through gritted teeth, “for those without a trace of magical genome this might be essential, indeed. But you _have_ – You’re a _witch_! You don’t have to worry about any creepy diseases to endanger you. You have completely different stamina.” 

“I _know_ ,” she hissed not the slightest bit more relaxed, “but that’s not the point of it?” 

“Quite possibly, but,” he sighed enervated. “You’re pregnant anyway, aren’t you?” 

She gasped, startled and furious. “Do you have to constantly remind me - of that?”   

For a couple of seconds he just looked at her, his face utterly blank so she could not get the faintest hint of his musings. A fact which was tend to seriously annoy her as it got her really, seriously and utterly nervous. 

“Well,” he finally declared with that damn, smug little grin that was tend to seriously annoy her, indeed.

“I guess…” he concluded with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Their gazes fixed within one another for the longest time, causing Hermione’s heart to speed up within her chest; her breath to catch within her throat and her very insides to boil with anticipation and intensity. 

Only when she thought she could not stand this intense, almost painful clamour for just the split of a second longer anymore, Malfoy drew his gaze away first. 

“Well, you seriously need to admit that if you hadn’t put up with such peculiar and inferior Muggle stuff, but had used a single suitable spell or potion like proper witches and wizards do, you wouldn’t be in trouble now, would you?” he drawled with an air of frustration. 

“Sure!” she snapped, “because those _couldn’t_ go wrong – _at all!!”_

“Granger,” he sighed, rolling his eyes at her outburst. “You know pretty well how I mean this. No need to get all iffy about it.” 

“Iffy?!” she gasped. 

“Yes! Iffy!” he insisted which caused her to _literally_ grit her teeth now. 

“You happen to be a bit um… over the top of late, you see?” he added and she gasped once more. 

“I’m not! Not at all!” she snapped, clearly outraged by the nerve of him. “And I’m not - _iffy_!” 

“Oh no, I see. Not at all,” he scoffed, shaking his head in mock denial. “You _are_ , Granger!” he stated, leaning forward. “And how!”

He then sighed once again. “Come on now, really! You know well enough I don’t intend to upset you.” 

“Why are you annoying me as you do, then?” she snapped. 

“I’m not annoying you at all! You’re just _feeling_ annoyed. That’s a difference.” 

At her dark scowl his face fell. “You’re just having mood swings!” he growled. 

“Mood swings?!” she gaped at him literally quivering with rage by now. “Is that supposed to mean – just because I’m pregnant – I’m unable to lead a sensible discussion?!” 

His smug grin did it.  

“MOOD SWINGS?! How dare you…”

After all the comfort and understanding she had received from him recently, Hermione could not handle his usual mockery now. How could she have supposed Malfoy to be kind and understanding…. tender and… affectionate… ever?

She had to be some really a pitiful, confounded individual to crave his comfort and consolation so badly. But then, who else did she have to turn to? Once again she remembered how perfectly fine she had felt in his arms back this afternoon.

Being in a real peeve and still longing for his embrace at the same time did not really help the situation at all.

“That’s perfect crap and you know it… and - mocking – me about getting in trouble - telling me it’s all my fault – that’s… that’s just – so – mean! How could I ever think you might actually care!? Sod off, Malfoy!” she called. And being a hormonal maniac as she was, Hermione started crying again. 

**OO**  

Draco’s mood immediately calmed at her distress. He felt more than bad all of a sudden. No matter how much he tried, he always did something to hurt, enrage or worry her.

But instead of running off to fix some tea, or just sit watching her cry, he did something very different and much more significant this time as he got up from his seat and slowly walked to the couch to sit down beside her. 

“Granger,” he began quite helplessly, “Granger, look – I didn’t mean…” 

She shrugged his comforting hand off and buried her face deeper into the pillows.

“Go away!” she wailed, “I’ve had enough of this - I don’t need you to make more fun of me! Can’t you just leave me alone!? What do you gain of this!?” 

The open misery with which she responded to his remark told him that she had no clue what he felt for – thought of her - he corrected himself, immediately.

“Nothing,” he muttered, carefully, “I gain nothing from those comments, Granger. It seems like eons since I meant any of them. I – didn’t mean to upset you.” 

_‘And no, I can’t leave you alone. Merlin help me, I just can’t’_ \- he mentally added, biting his lip not to blurt out aloud.  

Very hesitatingly, always expecting her to push him off, he placed his arm around her and started to gingerly rub her back.

She immediately tensed at the contact and he already waited for her to say that he should let go of her and never come back, but she did not. Encouraged by her behaviour, he continued to gently caress her back and pulled her a little closer against himself. 

“Please – don’t cry... That was a very insensitive thing of me to say. I realise that and… I’m sorry. I’m sorry about so many things… of what I’ve said and done – in the past and - and just now and – and - you shouldn’t cry because of me, H-GraGr–” 

He took in a deep breath, reassuring himself to pick up courage: _“Hermione.”_  

There – he had said it – not as an accidental slip, but willingly this time.

She gasped, hearing her name from his lips – again, because she noted this time it was clearly different.

He was startled by the sound of it himself. Even if he had somewhat involuntary called her by her first name on several occasions lately, it had always been in mid of talking to her, whereas now… There was no denying he had now purposely chosen her given name. The difference was tremendous, though. 

The sound of it was cutting the silence around and seemed to be dangling in mid air between them.  

He did not regret it. He rather liked it _a lot_ and so - once again - tested its flavour: “Hermione,” he whispered with awe and then more determinant: “Hermione, don’t cry. Please.” 

All that mattered right now was to make her notice that he had not meant to hurt her. Therefore he tried to draw her a little closer, always expecting her to refuse the embrace, but she did not.

He clearly felt her muscles tense at the unfamiliar, unexpected contact of lying half on top of him, but after a while she seemed to relax until finally her trembling form slumped against his chest as she leaned in to him and just cried.

Still surprised by the full amount of his profound and intense emotions, Draco finally flung both of his arms around her and tried to comfort her the best he could.

For a long time he just held her like that. He had never – ever – felt so confused in his life. 

“Hermione,” he whispered into her wavy, untidy hair so that some of her messy curls were tickling his nose. 

A wave of warmth and protectiveness spread through him as she snuggled closer to him and buried her face in the curve of his neck. He could feel her tears against his skin could feel her heavy, uneven breathing and inhaled sharply as a single of her tears ran down his neck and disappeared into the collar of his shirt. 

But it was her response that truly shook him. She pressed if possible, even closer to him and he could feel her lips moving against the skin of his neck as she spoke. 

“Draco,” she whispered, “Oh Draco, I’m so scared…” 

A wave of wild, utter protectiveness rushed through him at this, leaving him feel all funny and hot and worked up inside. He could not quite fathom it, but her open misery and the amount of trust she apparently lay in him made his heart shift inside his chest. 

He felt drowned by intense, overwhelming affection and caring, clouding his very reasoning. At the same time he felt a rather vicious wrath at Potter and the way he had treated her and an irrational, unspeakable need to make up for all the sorrow and pain Potter had caused her. The urge to amend the wrong he had done her. 

Inhaling deeply he willed the whirling torrent of emotion to calm down, before he did something rather foolish and imprudent like… kissing her… _again_.

Because he – wanted – to kiss her… badly… He _longed_ to kiss and hold her and – never let go… He wanted to tell her she was the most precious, wonderful being in the world. 

This might be a little forward, though… 

Instead of bothering her with this tangled mass of emotion, Draco worked hard on keeping himself restrained. It would not do her any good if he got worked up about the matter like that. All she needed at the moment was comfort and reassurance. The more soft and careful the better. 

Any vows, however passionate and heartfelt they might be would be too much for her to handle just now. This was not about him and what he felt, wanted, needed or craved to do right now, but about her. It was just - her – that mattered - and for her sake he had to keep back. She did not need any passionate, effusive emotional or physical advances that would presumably bother her even further. She needed a friend. And a friend he would be.

Instead of lamentations he would simply stay around, doing whatever she needed him to do – when she needed him to do it. 

“I know,” he soothed her gently rubbing her back, “I know. Hermione.” 

**OO**  

Hermione took in a quivering breath to steady herself. Now that she calmed down a little, she grew aware of how closely he held her. How gingerly his fingertips were caressing the back of her head, neck and shoulders and how – perfectly – right this felt!

It was just where she belonged. Just what she wanted – needed – craved.

It gave her a feeling of comfort she had rarely ever felt in Harry’s embrace. Maybe back then, when they had been just friends…

But no, this was different. It was no mere compassion, no soothing her in her misery. It was far beyond that. It was consummating, overwhelming, breathtaking and yet utterly comfortable and reassuring. 

This was not Harry, but no other than Draco Malfoy, who was holding her so tenderly and her body reacted to him so strongly it made her tremble and ache all over. With need, hunger and emotion.

Memories of the kiss they had shared at the Potions dungeon came to her mind that made her stomach flutter and made the soft caresses of his hand even more significant. It was almost unbearable not to tilt her head aside and kiss him – desperately. It felt indeed like physical pain having to restrain herself.

She could not bear it any longer, could no longer bit back the sigh of longing, nor could she withstand the impulse to at least try to just mould into him… 

Most obviously he misinterpreted that sound as a sign of trouble and sadness, since it caused him to double his efforts to calm and console her. Which did not help at all at the very moment? 

“You’ll be fine – Hermione. Everything is going to be fine. You’re strong, Hermione, you’re able to cope with this. I know you are.” 

Hermione was not quite sure, but she could have sworn he even covered the crown of her head with a couple of tender kisses, but it might have been just his lips brushing across the curls as he whispered words of comfort and warm-heartedness into her hair. Nonetheless it made her throat all dry and tight with longing. 

So Hermione snuggled even closer to Draco, closer into the warmth of his embrace, into the wondrous tenderness of his caresses - even if they were only meant to comfort her.  

If this was all she could get she would not hesitate to value every single moment. 

**OO**  

Overwhelmed by all the pent up tension this little gesture of affection did it to him. The words broke free from his chest before he even realised it. 

“Hermione!” he gasped.

“Hermione, look: I wasn’t laughing about you! It’s just… Well, I couldn’t resist mockery at the thought of Potter causing a mess. And then…” he inhaled deeply, determinant to steady himself before he continued. But it was to no use.

The words came rushing downright out of his soul: “Then, the thought of Potter touching you… In such way! The thought of you and him being intimate… Imagining him kissing and touching you, let alone lying with you….It got me so terribly, incredible, hopelessly mad! It still does!! I just – can’t stand – it!!! It is bothering me beyond reasoning and I…I want… Oh Hermione…” 

He trailed off, rubbing his temples, furiously. Willing the strong emotions to ease out he swallowed hard before he continued: “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Hermione. I really didn’t! It’s just… that I don’t know much about Muggles and was amused by your explanation. But that’s just because I am so thick headed and ignorant. I tend to say nasty things when I get nervous or awkward. And you… you – make- me nervous, Hermione… and awkward… And you…you… You’d better tell me to shut up once I do, I guess.” 

He smiled kind of ruefully. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered, seriously. “Quite the contrary. I wish I could do anything to lessen your trouble and ease that look of desolation and worry from your face!” 

**OO**  

With that Hermione sat up to look at him, disbelieve written all over her face. 

“Why?” she asked thunderstruck. 

“I… can not tell you, why…” he uttered, with clear unease, looking away, before she could read the expression in his eyes. “I just have to. I care about you. I …I …like… you…Hermione. I like you so very much!!!” 

“But Draco,” she insisted softly, “you used to hate me…I can’t see how…” 

Suddenly, his hand was over hers, holding on to her urgently and somewhat possessively. “I _never_ truly hated you, Hermione…Please… don’t ever believe that!” 

“But you…were constantly harassing me… ” she whispered dully. “You told me I was a Mudblood, worth less than filth beneath your shoes. I can’t remember how often you said things like that.…” 

“I was a brat!” he interrupted her when he could not take any more of it. 

“Constantly spurred on to surpass you by my father, but unable to succeed, I envied you, Hermione! I envied you in many ways. You even… kind of scared me… I mean you shouldn’t have been able to have all this ability! It contradicted everything I was brought up to believe in… feeling superior to everything ‘muggle’… And then you came along… throwing all these theories into disarray. It left me scared and frustrated and curious… Very curious… But… taunting and insulting you seemed to be the only way to make you notice me and talk to me at all… So I did. I called you a M-mudblood and kept parroting what I had heard over and over again, but never questioned. I screwed things up, pretty thoroughly. I realise that now.”

“You did.” she smiled, gently. “Are you… are you trying to tell me that you think differently now?” 

“Yes.” 

“So now you are umm… questioning?” she asked, holding her breath. 

“No,” he told her with dead seriousness. “Now - I regret!” 

“Why?” Hermione breathed in wonder. 

When he did not answer but drew in a quivering breath instead, Hermione turned to face him. 

“Do you pity me?” she asked, looking into his eyes, hoping to find an answer there. An answer he might refuse to verbally give. 

The stormy-grey eyes were troubled, revealing the restlessness he felt, but held her gaze as he spoke.

“No,” he declared earnestly. “No, I don’t pity you, Hermione. I mean I feel sorry for you because you are so alone and upset, of course, but… But that’s not it, Hermione! It’s nothing so easy. Not at all. I _meant_ what I said to Potter today, every single word. I meant all of it!”

It was on her to gasp at a loss for words. 

Pulling her gaze away first Hermione returned into the cosy shelter of his embrace. Like that they sat in silence for the longest time, mulling over what he had just told her. 

Involuntarily Hermione had laid her head onto Draco’s chest right in the place where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

She closed her eyes, listening to the regular, ever so present throbbing. It was a very intense and intimate moment. But instead of the sheer overwhelming desire she had felt earlier it was a moment of tender, affectionate attachment. The soft rise and fall of his chest lulled her into a cuddly state of contentedness.

  **OO**  

At first Draco had been tempted to make some comment about _‘lying at the heart’_ , but had bit his tongue. He dreaded she might have retreated then. He did not – want – her to retreat! He desperately wanted her to stay. 

So he had merely closed his eyes to just value the wondrous feel of Hermione Granger snuggling into his arms. Not Hermione Granger as a trembling wreck of nerves, tears or dizziness this time, but calm and content. Hermione Granger, serenely and cognisant leaning into him. 

It felt good.

Somewhat involuntary – almost by itself – his hand found its way back to softly stroke her neck and shoulders. Even if he tried, he could not quite convince himself to be doing this for comfort or reassurance, since there was not any need of soothing her for the time being. Surely she was bound to notice this herself.

She did not complain. Nor did she flinch. She just let it pass without comment. 

And so he continued to gently hold and fondle her. Just because he wanted to. He - wanted – and he liked it. 

Like before their hands – resting atop of his chest – met. Only this time it was her whose fingertips brushed along his. Without second thought his hand slid over hers as he took it, pressing it softly. With her head resting in the place it did, Draco wondered whether she might feel his heartbeat quicken, since to himself it felt to be pounding like mad all of a sudden. Even his breathing seemed to be speeding up and no matter how much he willed it to slow down it simply would not. 

Ever so slightly she repeated the little gesture, pressing his hand in return.

“Thank you,” she whispered.  

A sudden, stunned happiness captured his senses.   

“Gl- gladly,” he croaked. Then, clearing his throat so his voice would not hitch again as he spoke, he tried to regain some of his composure. “Are you… feeling better?” 

“Yes, lots better,” she agreed, softly. “Draco…” 

“Hermione,” he muttered, just as softly. “Hermione, would you promise me something?” 

“What, Draco?” she whispered back.   

“Whenever all of this is upsetting you too much - _please_ \- just tell me, will you? Don’t fret about this alone. Come to me, if you need someone to talk this over with – or just don’t want to be alone. No matter what hour it is. Let me help you.” 

“I will,” she promised.   

“Good,” he murmured, hugging her tight. “That’s good!” 

He could not help but feel slightly disappointed at the prospect of her to move away and sit up every moment now. 

She did not. 

Nor did he. 

He just held her. He could not really tell for how long they were already cuddling like that. Minutes must have passed, but he still could not bring himself to change anything about it. By now his fingertips had brushed the heavy curls away from her neck and were caressing the exposed and tender skin of her neck.  

He felt her take in a sharp breath at the slight touch. 

“Draco?” she asked hesitatingly. 

“Mhmm?” he murmured absentmindedly, leaning his cheek against the crown of her head, while she snuggled her face into the curve of his neck. “Yes, Hermione?”

 “What is it you’re doing to me?” 

“Doing?” he asked with an air of confusion. “What I’m... I’m trying to apologise, trying to tell you I didn’t mean to hurt…” 

“I’m not speaking of that,” she interjected softly. “No, _right now_. It’s just like on the broom today. Those stirs of magic I felt, radiating from every inch of your body once you held me like you did back then – as well as now…. It’s so intense – so powerful!”

He swallowed hard at her words.

“On the broom it was the Trust and Care, I told you.” he whispered carefully, but she shook her head. 

“No, I’m speaking of this _other_ magic! The one that causes this curious feel of aching and soothing at the same time. I can clearly feel your magic tingling on my skin.” 

“Uh?” he asked thunderstruck. “But – Hermione – there’s no other,” he frowned, “there’s no other spell…” 

His head was spinning with confusion at what she had just said.

But she already shook her head vehemently as she continued: “There HAS to be, Draco! I’m speaking of that first spell. The one you took my sickness and fear away with, when you held me. It’s another appearance of ancient, wand less magic, right?” 

“ _Ancient magic?”_ he mused, tasting the words’ flavour as if he had never used the term before. 

“Yes. How does it work? How do you manage to … to conjure up this intense magic all around – soothing my senses, appealingly putting everything wrong to right, pain at ease, fear to comfort, leaving me all funny and warm inside? What IS this, Draco?” 

“You’re feeling all funny and warm inside because I hold you?” he asked with awe. 

She nodded, seriously.

“Hmm, yes. What kind of spell does this? It’s ancient wand less magic, isn’t it?” she whispered. 

Once again, Draco had to swallow hard at Hermione’s words. 

“It’s no enchantment I would have known so far,” he admitted. “But – well- presumably, it is just what you deem it to be…” he whispered, hugging her even tighter as he spoke.

Another wave of utter tenderness washing over him as he realised that he meant – _exactly_ \- what he had just said. He trailed off, dreading to continue, his throat all dry and tight with longing all of a sudden. 

Ancient wand less magic, indeed! It just had to be! In fact, he realised to have been hit by the very most ancient wand less magic there was – if he had only dared to tell her…

 

**AN:** I got _so_ hooked on this story once again. :) Currently working on the 19 th chapter. Thank you so much for your nice comments! They are clearly spurring me on.

Smiles, Serpentina


	17. A tad odd

The wind that ruffled the dry leaves in the alleys of Hogsmeade held a bitter chill.

Draco and Crabbe were walking some steps behind Pansy and Goyle who kept smacking each other playfully about some nonsense either of them had said once again. Their laughter and teasing was echoing in the wind.

"Do you think he is ever going to tell her?" Crabbe asked nodding into the direction of their two friends ahead.

"I dread not. Although I don't know, why ever not. It can't be that complicated, can it? Their parents are practically over at each others Mansions for tea or dinner, every other week!"

"What's that going to do with it?" Crabbe frowned kind of dumbfounded.

Draco just shrugged at that. "Lots, I suppose… I mean… Really, how bad could it be if they told anyone they were dating?" he sighed, shaking his head in wonder about so much – denseness.

"I suppose most of the trouble is to actually tell – each other." Crabbe frowned, still no less bewildered. "What makes you think their _parents_ might be the problem?"

Draco did not comment on that any further.

"Well, I guess we better do something about it then…" he mused.

"You want to set them up!?" Crabbe asked with a sly grin, seemingly forgetting about his friend's odd behaviour.

"Sure," Draco agreed, shrugging. "If it helps," he stated kind of mischievously himself exchanging a glance with his companion.

"It's about time, isn't it? I mean it is really hard to be able to stand by and watch anymore!"

"What's it to you?" Crabbe asked suspiciously.

"They are my friends," Draco frowned. "And it's obvious he is completely crazy for her, isn't it?"

"Mmm…. No offence, but you used not to care a damn about matters like that. So far you apparently had no serious problem shagging the _'girl your friend is crazy for_ '. Do you have the foggiest what I had to listen to back this summer? ' _Do you think she loves him?'_ ' _He wouldn't love her, would he?' 'I only hope she knows what she is doing’_ and so on. That was kind of tiring. Oh wait! _'Do you think it is anything serious?'_ and ' _It wouldn't be serious, would it?'_ were quite popular as well."

"It's NOT serious!" Draco declared vehemently. "It was just what you said: Shagging. Plain, simple, happy and content shagging."

At this he fell silent for a moment before he declared: "And - it's been _her_ who started it, by the way."

"And - she seemed to know perfectly well what she was doing," he added after another while.

Crabbe quitted this explanation with a grin. "I thought as much."

"I'm sure I didn't take advantage of her," Draco frowned. "Besides that – it didn't continue. We didn't have any umm… romp since we're back here at school."

"No idea why I'm telling you this, anyway. It's certainly none of your bloody business!" he suddenly frowned. "You wouldn't have slipped any Veritas Serum into my Butter Beer, would you?" he mocked, not quite serious.

At this Crabbe could not help but break into a broad grin. "What a marvellous, fascinating imagination! But no, don't fret! I'm not quite prepared dying -so- young!"

Draco grinned back at him, doubtlessly relieved.

"I should hope so, too!"

"You've changed a lot, you see?" Crabbe declared seriously. "I wouldn't complain about it. It’s for the better, you know? You… used to be much more umm…self focused in the past. Whereas now…"

He shrugged. "What happened?"

"What ha…?" Draco gasped, taken by surprise.

Crabbe's intense stare made him feel kind of trapped.

"Nothing happened!" he declared a little too quickly and vehemently for his own opinion. Even his voice sounded less nonchalant.

Crabbe did not respond to this. His gaze wandered towards the little bag of hand-picked candy Draco had so meticulously selected at Honneydukes a couple of minutes ago, instead.

"It's for _her_ , isn't it?"

"Hm?" Draco frowned kind of startled.

"The Mud.… umm Granger…?" Crabbe corrected himself just in time at his friend's scowl darkening.

"Say it was," Draco agreed, carefully weighing his every word. "What then, hm? Mustn't I? Are you telling me I'm not allowed to give away some candy?

"Mmmm, I'd say, it depends…" Crabbe mused just as carefully. "You see; if I wouldn't know any better… But then, I have Potions class with you, you know?" he declared kind of sarcastically. "As well as Flying lessons, I might add. And therefore - well, I guess I'd say ummm – NO!"

Instead of an answer Draco merely gritted his teeth, scowling darkly.

"You shouldn't make a fool out of yourself unless there is a very good and serious reason for it. People already talk, you know?" his friend explained, carefully. "Why are you fussing over her like that anyway?"

"I'm not fussing over her at all!" Draco snapped. "It's just because of Potter! He is an arse and…"

"Well that's some surprise! Tell me something new…" Crabbe snorted, dryly.

"Yes, I know. I know," Draco agreed with an air of uncharacteristic defensiveness. "But he has been mean to her and now she is upset and I…I…"

"OH, he has been MEAN to the girl you used to taunt and harass for the last six years?! And she is UPSET?! I see. Poor Dear. Well – that's – a plausible reason, of course… Silly me…" Crabbe shook his head in mock understanding.

"What the heck would you care?!" he asked seriously. " _Think_ , Draco!"

"I… I'm just…just… being… umm kind…" Draco stated, loosing more of his composure by any second.

"See? _That's_ what I'm worried about," Crabbe declared.

"It's not on you to judge any of my actions!" Draco flew out at him, feeling cornered. "You have no right to tell me what to do or not!"

"I wouldn't _dream_ of it!" Crabbe declared, seriously. "But your father might be less enthusiastic. Don't you think so? Since – to put it mildly – you are acting _a tad odd_ recently, you know?"

This time it was on Draco to just gape at his companion, speechless.

"When did it happen?" Crabbe asked somewhat understandingly.

"Hm?" Draco once again frowned kind of unhappily.

"The two of you falling in love?"

"We're not!"

"Don't deem me stupid," Crabbe smiled, "and now come on, don't fret about what I said. Just think about it, will you?"

OO

From his seat across the library Draco's eyes repeatedly focused on Hermione Granger.

Her bushy haired head remained bowed over her book while her quill kept scrapping across the parchment in front of her. It was almost impossible to ' _accidentally_ ' catch her eye as if she somehow purposely avoided his gaze.

Since he did not want to be so blunt to just stare, Draco kept trying the ' _casual way_ ' instead.

Was she mad at him? he wondered with growing concern. But what for? He was not sure. Nonetheless the thought was kind of worrying him.

At his entry two hours ago she had already been here and for the split of a second he had considered to head straight for her desk and sit down beside her. He had intended to bid her a good morning, hand her the little bag of candy he had bought for her and see her glance at him with a look of surprise and possibly smile back at him in return.

After a couple of enthusiastic, heavily quickened heartbeats he had reluctantly decided against it, though.

With a Transfigurations exam coming around the following week the vast room was much more crowded than usual for a Sunday. He was sure a couple of students – no matter what houses they might be in – would have taken interest in such an action.

Before he started to show his affection in such an open, obvious way, he wanted to be sure it was welcomed. Fridays Flying class had been bad enough – just as the other days Potions lesson had been.

No. Crabbe was probably right. For now he had already made enough of a fool out of himself.

Nonetheless he could not stop glancing at her. He would have so much wanted to hear how her Saturday had been. He had not seen her around Hogsmeade so he wondered what else she had done. Maybe she had been studying up here at the library all alone. With a prang of yearning he almost wished to have stayed at the castle as well. He might have approached her so much more easily then. Even the thought of just working alongside her was incredibly flattering all of a sudden.

What on earth was wrong with him?

To consider bartering a delightful Hogsmeade visit for studying Transfigurations in a dusty library alongside bushy haired, knocked up Hermione Granger was an odd desire in itself.

Nevertheless – alerting as it might be – it was still true, he realised with astonishing clearness.

Quite unconsciously Draco Malfoy fumbled with the little bag of sweets he had brought along from Hogsmeade the day before. He had not dared to give it to her in the evening. Maybe it was indeed a stupid idea to bring her candy. It would not help matters in any way if she started to feel uncomfortable around him.

_‘And if she didn't?’_

He still could not forget what she had said about the so supposed _'ancient wandless magic'_ between them. ‘ _So didn’t she realise?’_

‘ _Or did she?_ ’

He would have loved to know, but dreaded that an overeagerly, impetuous attempt to approach her would only cause her to feel uncomfortable and would possibly ruin his every chance he might ever have.

What implied that he did indeed consider to get involved with her – _'muggleborn, Gryffindor Miss goody two-shoes, knocked up and dumped by Harry Potter'_ or not.

It was not truly important to him. None of these things.

So she – was – pregnant with someone else's child. With _Potter's_ child to be precise. He was not repulsed or discouraged. Which was incredibly peculiar in itself.

He knew he was acting weird but he simply could not help it – he just wanted to be around her, to talk and listen to her - and whenever he held her in his arms it felt so perfectly right.

He felt so good around her. She _made_ him feel good. Her mere presence caused his heart to race inside his chest.

He felt so strongly about her – so affectionate and so very, utterly protective.

And when she smiled at him… A single open genuine smile of hers could cause his heart to race madly with joy.

And hearing her say his name made him so happy it caught the very breath in his throat...

He thought of her when she was not around with increasing frequency lately. He simply could not get her out of his head.

He had missed her terribly the day before. The sight of Pansy and Goyle happily bantering with each other had made him wish for her company all the more, imagining how nice it must be to freely and openly stroll along the streets of Hogsmeade in her company.

Even now he felt an almost painful twinge of longing in his chest to just quid any doubt and move to sit beside her. But did he really _doubt_? Or was he rather – clammed and diffident – too afraid to approach her like that because he dreaded – _feared_ – he might not be welcomed – in that way?

What a mess?

With a deep sigh Draco Malfoy tried to focus back onto his Transfigurations research. It was not to much use though, since – Hermione Granger – was all he could truly think about.

Half an hour ago another group of students had been entering and Draco had caught sight of two redheads accompanying _'the biggest brat who lived'._

Being watched Potter had immediately glared at him but had not made any comment yet. Despite looking her direction for a couple of times he had not bothered her with any vile comments either.

Now whatsoever the female Weasley got out of her seat. Encouraged by Potter and her idiot of a brother she started to reluctantly move into Hermione's direction.

Draco's brow furrowed at that.

She wouldn't like that. She probably wouldn't like that one bit.

**OO**

For a long time this morning the soft scrapping of her quill brushing over the parchment as well as the dry crinkling of turning the pages had been the only sound to cut through the silence around.

Then bit by bit small or larger groups of students had arrived, filling the vast room with the soft humming of their voices and shuffling feet.

After the long-reigning silence of the morning, even these soft noises appeared loud to her ears.

It was distracting and annoying, even if they tried to keep any noises low.

Determined to get through with what she had set onto her day's schedule Hermione tried to block any distractions around.

So far she had succeeded well enough, although about two hours ago the appearance of a certain silvery-blond Slytherin had caught her attention. For a couple of seconds he had lingered at the doorstep and with a mixture of excitement and anticipation she had already half way expected him to head for her desk and take a seat next to her.

After a moment though he had turned the other direction pretending not to have seen her. Even if she relaxed exhaling the breath she had not been aware she had been holding, she felt slightly disappointed.

Afterwards concentrating had become incredible difficult. Her thoughts always wandering off towards the other side of the library where the silvery-blond head was bowed over his own book and parchment, some of his platinum strands hiding his eyes from her view. She could not tell whether he looked at her at all, but more than once she had felt wriggly and excited, supposing his gaze to rest on her.

Like earlier this term Hermione had not went to Hogsmeade the day before.

But this time she had not felt entirely confident about her decision. Several times during the day she had actually wished she might be just there – in his company…

In the evening it had been even worse. To know he was back then, probably right next door, inside his rooms had made it quite difficult not to walk over there to just – see him…

She had wondered what he might be doing right then. Whether he was reading or working on some studies. Maybe putting some more wood into the fire from time to time…

At that her train of thoughts had centred on musing over how adorable and gorgeous he had looked with the fire shine reflected on his face adding a golden glow to his hair the other evening…

It had been almost painful to think about it, knowing there was no, absolutely – _no_ – chance he might feel that way about her – ever.

_‘How could he?’_ While – considering houses, bloodlines and shared history – they might not have been the perfect match anyway – she had probably screwed things up entirely when she had managed to get herself knocked up by no other than Harry Potter on op of it all.

So honestly – how could he ever even remotely consider thinking of her in such a way?

No matter how much she longed to hug and kiss him it was completely in vain. She had to stop thinking of him like that. It was hopeless. It was unpromising. It was pathetic.

She could not deny he was very kind to her. Incredible and heart-rending kind! He had even asked her to come and talk to him – _whenever_ – she felt like it, but still…

After the way she had thrown herself at him at their latest conversation, like she had clung to him, starving for his affection – craving his kiss – she was slightly reluctant to face him right now.

Maybe so did he. For what other reason did he pretend to not have seen her and sit across the library otherwise? Did he feel uncomfortable around her now?

She could not tell.

She just felt terribly sad at the prospect.

Lucky she had come up here so early today. She was almost done by now. She was not sure if she would have managed to complete the task she had set herself for today otherwise.

The sound of footsteps approaching her snapped her out of her musing. But when she looked up from her parchment it was not a pleasant surprise.

OO

"Umm Hermione…" slowly and cautiously Ginny Weasley was approaching her, stopping right in front of her desk.

"Hermione, look…I know things went a little unfavourable…but…"

"Unfavourable?" Hermione glared.

"Are you mad at me, Hermione?" Ginny asked warily which caused Hermione's mood to darken even more.

Fixing the younger girl with a pricing stare even McGonagall might have envied her of, she chose her next words with care.

"Well let’s say it as plain as that: You screwing my boyfriend behind my back after pumping information about his um… _likings_ from me is not what I'm counting _unfavourable_. It's freaking out betrayal and furtiveness!"

"Hermione… look…I can't help how I feel…I…"

"You! It's always just about you – isn't it, Ginny?!" she snapped.

"But Hermione, I thought we might just be … friends again…."

"How dare you?!" Hermione spat. "How dare you talking about friendship! You're so self focused you don't even realise what you did to me? Do you?!"

"But we are friends, aren't we, Hermione?"

" _Friends?_ " Hermione scoffed. "We're not _friends_! Friends don't treat each other like that!"

"But Hermione…I didn't mean to…"

"Look, Ginny!" she sighed still fuming with barely controlled rage. "Once and for all! I'm not blaming you for being together! If he's rather with you than me – so it be. That's his choice entirely. I would not have complained if either of you would have had the decency to tell me – _before_ – you started to mess about with each other."

Ginny's mouth hung open in complete surprise at that.

"You knew…" she stammered, flabbergasted rekindling Hermione's rage by the mere nerve of speaking those thoughts aloud.

"Yes! Imagine! I _knew_! But since you didn't bother telling me – before – you had my boyfriend screwing you in the showers after the Quidditch match; nor – before – I saw him shagging you up against the wall beneath the stairs the very next day and who knows when else - just quit it. Don't bother speaking to me! Just leave, will you?"

"But Hermione… I'm here to…. um kind of apologise…" Ginny insisted.

"And I said; _I kind of… um don't care,_ " Hermione mimicked in the sweetest of voices, before her brow furrowed.

"I said 'I don't want to talk to you!" she snapped causing Ginny to back off bouncing right into Draco as she stepped backwards.

**OO**

During their heated dispute neither of them had noticed Draco approaching them.

"I suppose that means she is not interested in renewing your _'friendship'_ ," he drawled with dripping sarcasm, just as the Weasley's wide frightened eyes stared at him.

With a startled gasp she literally jumped backwards once again only to collide with Hermione, who had leaped out of her seat now, _glowing_ in her rage.

To complete the whole mess ‘ _St. Potter’_ now mixed into the fight, accusing Hermione to torment the Weasellette.

"Do you have to bully her around her like that?! You know how easily frightened she gets ever since the attack. I assumed you to be a little more sensitive, Hermione!"

"You're speaking about being sensitive? That's rich, Potter!" Draco commented, stepping in between them before Hermione even stood the chance to react.

"She didn't do a thing to deserve that critic!" he declared. "It was your faithless little trollop who kept pestering her although she told her to leave it."

It might not have been the wisest of movements to calm the situation. Within the spilt of an instant the two of them rushed into another argument witch happened to be no less fierce than the other day's row.

Neither of them noticed the vast room becoming entirely silent just as everyone's eyes fell on them. Everyone around was watching - listening.

"Don't you dare insulting my girlfriend, Malfoy!" Potter growled.

"Oh – she's your ' _girlfriend_ ' then?" Draco taunted sarcastically. "How could I ever oversee that there were actually aspects non-sexual concerning your relationship?! I'm inconsolable sorry!"

"You're the one to speak about non-sexual aspects of a relationship, Malfoy! But then, I almost forgot; it's no _‘relationship’_ you're interested in concerning Hermione, is it? So then; how is your little _'arrangement'_ coming along?" Potter hissed with venom.

"Bloody pleasantly, thank you so much for asking, Potter! Unlike you I have no intention to change anything about it!" Draco sneered back just as acidly.

**OO**

With that Draco turned towards her. Apparently looking how she was coping with the trouble and although she was certainly a little stressed, Hermione could not say she felt as bad about the situation as he probably thought she might.

In fact her heart was beating quite heavily with joy and excitement. He had come over to mix into the dispute to back her up! He had even rushed into another argument with Harry to defend her and keep him from troubling her. He was so nice to her… Maybe he actually cared – at least a tiny little bit… Maybe…

Right then the softly spoken words of concern caused her to snap out of it: "Don't mind him, Hermione. You know he is a git. Just come," Draco muttered, reaching for her hand.

She unhesitatingly took it. Her heart was beating madly with joy, as he interlaced his fingers with hers and pressed them reassuringly.

"Oh so you need to be _told_ to come?!" Harry scoffed with venom. "So _that's_ been the problem! I should have known …"

Once again Draco cut in before Hermione stood the chance to get at Harry herself, turning around to face his opponent. His hand still resting in hers, she could literally feel him shaking with rage.

To an outstanding witness he remained utterly calm, almost nonchalant, but Hermione could clearly feel he was not.

"It's not her problem you're just a lousy lay Potter! Not – _anymore_ – at least," he drawled, provocatively.

"Ha! Don't tell me she suddenly turned to be a real pearl of thunder!?" Harry scoffed, eyeing their continuous handholding with clear amusement.

"No," Draco remarked apparently calm and unaffected, still, "she's not."

For a moment Hermione almost felt hurt. That truly sounded as if Draco shared Harry's opinion of her qualities as a lover – or rather their lack of.

The smug grin crossing Harry's face was swept off his features entirely by Draco's next remark, though.

"She's the lightning!" he declared with utter seriousness.

Hermione felt like the breath was caught in her throat.

That – was the most beautiful, adorable declaration she could imagine. It was poetic and sweet, it was dedicative and it caused her heart to race madly with joy.

But it actually sounded as if they were _indeed_ sleeping together. It was as good as a confess and it did not leave any doubt Draco was more than pleased by her ' _qualities'_.

_‘Did he even realise, she wondered. Did he possibly do it on purpose? But – what ever for?’_

She was definitely confused but right now she was too stunned to react at all.

Not quite believing what she had just heard she stood there amid the gob smacked audience at the Hogwarts library holding hands with Draco Malfoy.

"So you're _actually_ shagging her!" Harry flew out after the first shock of taking this information in. "She's a faithless little slut, indeed! I _knew_ it! I just knew!"

"She's no slut!" Draco snapped flying into a rage – finally. "You know – _nothing_ – about her, Potter! _Absolutely nothing_!"

"Oh yes, I remember," Harry scoffed mimicking what Draco had said about her the other day. "She's _'pure'_ and _'kind'_ and _'unique'_ and… _'precious'_ …isn't she?"

“Yes, she is.” Draco declared with calm, utter seriousness. Hermione felt his hand softly pressing hers as he stepped closer.

Just that instant an utmost infatuated Madame Pince approached the four of them.

"Just in case neither of you realised during the past six years; this is a _library_!" she hissed, furiously. "What do you think to yell in here like that!?"

With an expression like 'Uupps messed that up pretty soundly' Draco turned to face Hermione and with that – unfortunately – let go of her hand.

Being ripped off the warmth of his palm resting against hers, she almost winced. Almost reached out to keep hold of him but stopped herself, barely in time.

It was almost ridiculous how the mere fact that he had stopped holding her hand could make her feel so deserted and vulnerable.

When she looked at him she felt lots better, though. Despite the strange situation she could not help but smile at the crushed and rueful expression on his face.

Seemingly encouraged by this he cast her a slight, kind of diffident but also mischievous smile, unconsciously reaching out to her once again, touching her hand in an apologetic gesture, before he took it again, firmly. Affirmative.

For a moment no one else seemed to exist. No one at all. They merely looked at each other – oblivious of their surroundings.

Then a snide, scornful voice cut in once again.

"Boy oh boy!" Harry scoffed. "That's _worse_ than I ever imagined. You must be _seriously_ nuts about her, Malfoy! _'She's the lightning' …_ Honestly!"

Another sarcastic snort made clear how utterly ridiculous he supposed this to be.

"That's _pathetic_ , Malfoy! Hopelessly and downright pitiable! You're seriously off your chops! Completely and utterly nuts about her, aren't you? How does it feel to be drooling over a ' _Mudblood_ ' like that, hm? Already called the banns? Oh wait! Daddy Dearest doesn't know yet, does he?! Well, he'll be _enthralled_!"

"You've SO no clue what you're talking about," Draco just said kind of defensively.

"Yes, she already said so the other day," Harry drawled sensing he did hit a sensitive spot. "That's getting kind of _boring_ , Malfoy… Wouldn't one of you have the grace to enlighten me?"

"I don't – _dream_ – of it!" Draco snapped. So just shut up and get lost!"

"Yes, I suppose that's the best idea any of you had in the past few minutes! How _dare_ you making such a tumult in here?! Now - _out_! _All of you!_ " the librarian mixed into their argument once again, obviously not the slightest bit amused at being ignored like that.

"And it is 10 points off your houses, _each_!" she added as an afterthought; before she turned on her heal to head back for her desk.

**OO**

Draco knew he had probably overdone his attempt to support her once again. Somehow Potter always managed to corner him and get his nonchalance cracked when it came to her recently.

‘ _Damn!’_

With a careful side-glance he checked onto Hermione as they stepped outside into the corridor. She looked tense, he noticed. Tense and kind of worried.

He only whished there was something he could do to make up for it. Anything.

They had been forced to quid their handholding to gather up their books, parchments and quills and snatch their bags before they had left, but right now Draco felt too diffident to make another approach at her. He just did not dare.

Not after the way Potter had mocked him about his supposed intentions towards her… about ' _calling the banns'_ … ‘ _Arrrrrr!_ ’ He almost cringed with embarrassment at the thought that she had actually heard that!

Well, in fact everyone had, but somehow that did not matter half as much as the idea she might feel discomforted around him now. He could just hope Potter's vile comments and startling assumptions would not drive her away.

This had been truly embarrassing.

"I never knew Madame Pince had such a powerful voice. For a librarian she is talking quite loudly, don't you think so?" he babbled in an attempt to break though Hermione's state of discomfort.

She was quite tense and confused, still.

At least Potter did keep his big mouth shut for a change. Right now he was merely eying them – with doubtless interest, though.

"Are you quite all right?" Draco muttered concerned by her continuous silence. "Hermione?"

"Yes, yes of course I am…Don't worry, Draco. I'm just so - _mad_! Thanks for supporting me, though."

She suddenly smiled at him and once again it did not miss its effect on him. The mere sight of it hit him right into the chest like the lightning he had declared her to be. He suddenly felt self-confident again. He felt wriggly with joy. Incredible, utterly good – as if he could possibly fly without his broom all of a sudden.

"Gladly," he smiled back at her, wholeheartedly.

"Although I dread I did cause quite a mess. Hu?" he added quite daring and somewhat flirtatiously all of a sudden.

At this she merely raised her brows at him – questionably.

"Hey," he added even more mischievously, nudging his shoulder against hers. "I'd never thought I'd see the day Hermione Granger gets thrown out of the library. Shocking! Scandalizing! And guess what? That was 30 to 10! Isn't that lucky!? It's just a pity the male Weasel did not mix into the argument for once."

At that she stopped to just stare at him open mouthed, apparently at a loss for words at his teasing.

" _Draco Malfoy_ …" she threatened him with a laugh, slapping his chest playfully before she turned serious again.

"Oh no," she moaned, "Madame Pince is bound to be _so mad_ at me. I guess I really need to fix that. Maybe I should go back in and apologise..."

She hesitated.

Sensing another fit of gloominess to take over Draco spontaneously touched her upper arm in a soft, caressing sort of way.

"Yes. We're probably the first Heads to be thrown out of the library like that. We'll sort out that mess later, but not now. OK?"

He sighed, deeply. "At the moment I'm more likely in the mood to wring Potter's neck."

"I'd never thought I'd _ever_ agree with you in that matter, but you certainly have a point there," she acknowledged.

A shadow glided across her features at those words, so he quickly continued: "How about some outdoor activity, before we end up getting expelled for mangling ' _The biggest git who lives'_? Hm?"

"Oh, I don't know…" she laughed insecurely brushing a tendril of her messy hair back behind her ear. She looked _endearing_ doing that! _Entirely_ endearing. He just could not help but stare at her.

"What do you have in mind, Draco?"

"Huhh..? Oh! Well…. I originally planned to practice some flying later on this afternoon, but as matters are, I could use it right now. How about you? You could need a break as well. Won't you come along with?"

" _Flying_?" she asked flabbergasted, her huge brown eyes widening.

"Well not _you_ ," he smiled, remembering last weeks flying lesson. "I'm still glad I could talk you out of trying. No, I just thought… Maybe you'd like to come along with me and watch for some time?" he hesitated.

"You want me to watch you flying?" she asked with surprise and he already feared he had overdone it once again. Nonetheless he was not willing to back off now.

Vaguely he grew aware of Potter still watching them, entirely curious as it seemed. Draco could not have cared less!

"Yes, if you don't mind? Yes?" he suggested, carefully and kind of persuading.

"I know you're not especially crazy about Quidditch and flying in general, but I'd really appreciate your company, you see? I mean I wouldn't be flying _all_ the time…. Just a few rounds to release some of the stress, OK?"

For a moment she looked surprised then, after quick consideration, she nodded. "Yes, why not?!" she shrugged, breaking into a smile. "OK, then, I'll come along."

"Maybe we could take a little walk afterwards?" he suggested almost pleadingly, holding his breath. For a moment she looked at him entirely surprised, then slowly but unquestionably her face lit with a true, heartfelt smile, causing his heart to jump and bounce with joy and his skin to prickle all over with delight.

"Your ideas continue to amaze me, Mr. Malfoy," she whispered.

Taking up on her mischievous tone of voice he turned towards her with an insinuated bow, before he offered her his arm with bewildering seriousness.

"Miss Granger?"

With a slight nod, she took it – smiling.

**AN:** Well, that was a quick update, wasn't it? I'll try to make it a habit.

Thank you so much for your nice comments. It is so good to know you like what I have imagined for the both of them!

Smiles Serpentina


	18. Calling out your name

It was not exactly perfect weather for outdoor activity – or rather _‘outdoor activity watching’_ Hermione assumed.

She was currently ducking her head between her shoulders, apparently determined to shrug off the chilly air as she drew the collar of her cloak tighter around herself. 

It was a grey and misty day. A day on which no sun was visible which made it almost impossible to tell what hour it was. It had to be around late morning or early afternoon already, Hermione supposed. But it might be just as well even later. 

To her left, almost drowning within the thick white billows she could spot the mist-shrouded shapes of the castle. It was a strange, dreamlike atmosphere. Every sound around was muffled.

It was perfect _‘library weather’_. Hermione Granger whatsoever was currently seated atop a fallen trunk at the lake, watching the hardly distinguishable spot amid the thick screen of fog above the water that was Draco Malfoy on his hell of a racing broom. She did so with a wriggly, excited fluttering in her chest.

She had been entirely surprised by his suggestion to come along and watch him fly. It was neither the day for flying nor was it exactly suitable for a stroll along the lake.

But he had been so eager, so zealous to talk her into it and she had been so flattened, so excited that he wanted her to be around.

So she had just agreed, feeling curious. After fetching their cloaks and his broom at their rooms, they had headed straight for the lake.

She did not regret it. Unusual as it was. She _loved_ being out here. With him…

She loved being outside in the grounds. It was a pleasant, welcomed change not to be surrounded by the castle walls, even if the weather conditions were all but encouraging. Only now did she realise how very much she had locked herself inside recently. She had not felt this alive and excited in weeks...

Inhaling the fresh, misty air that caused her already messy hair to curl until it was in almost a bad state and just as unmanageable as it had been in their first year, Hermione Granger kept watching Draco Malfoy on his broom, with an absentminded little smile – eyes shinning and sparkling with delight. 

**OO**  

Even atop his broom high up the air, Draco Malfoy could not get Hermione Granger out of his head. Nor could he stop himself from glancing down at her – whenever she was visible between the thick layers of mist that was. 

It was rather tricky, difficult weather for flying to be honest. It was not exactly suitable for watching anyone and certainly completely unsuitablefor training any finer moves or stunts. It was slightly disappointing – well, it was completely ridiculous to be precise! 

While he had been in an enthusiastic mood when they had left the library earlier and had just given in to the impulse to ask her to come along – he was not entirely sure of his actions anymore.

What had seemed like a good idea to him back then – euphoric as he had been – seemed to be kind of stupid, now. He was glad she did come along, but… it made him nervous. Feeling her eyes resting on his every movement did not help.

Currently, she was seated on a fallen trunk beside the lake, watching him. Well, trying to _spot_ him what probably more precise, he admitted to himself.

He knew she was not especially fond of flying. And now that she could hardly even see him, it had to be dull for her – boring. 

So why did she come? How could he tell she was not just being polite? Did she feel obliged to do him a favour? What for, he wondered kind of uncomfortably. He did not want her to do anything out of gratefulness. 

But then, if she was just here now, anyway, if she bothered to take all these inconveniences to herself he felt kind of obligated to at least _try_ to make it remotely entertaining.   

Therefore he tried to impress her with a couple of sharp-angled, sudden changes of direction and rise and falls, even if it was a little risky. He was doing it above the lake after all. So even if the wind was much heavier out here – even if he could not always see the water’s surface beneath him, what could possibly happen? 

Since he had started to fly more quickly and venturesome, she was watching him even more closely, he had realised. By now she was on the edge of her seat to have a closer look. 

He smiled. So he had managed to catch her interest, indeed.

She had had a row with Potter about not coming to see him at his Quidditch game even, he had heard about that – but here she was, a mid screens of fog watching – him! 

Thinking of Potter only increased his eagerness to show off, though. Her idiot of an ex-boyfriend was a spectacular flyer – there was no denying that. He even managed that bloody Wronski Feint Draco himself was so eagerly practicing on recently.  

Mmm… 

He knew he could not handle it as well as Potter, but he certainly progressed. Maybe he should just give it another try? She might acknowledge that. It was a very difficult move after all. 

Maybe it was the mist that caused him to misjudge the exact distance, the wind possibly. Or maybe it was just Hermione Granger watching him, which incited him to hopelessly underestimate the weather and show off more than necessary and suitable as he finally tried to do another Wronski Feint above the lake.

This time he did miscalculate his reaction time, though. One moment there was only mist beneath him – and then, the very next second, there was water, glittering right in front of him. There was no, absolutely – _no_ – chance he could pull his broom out of his break-neck dive without to face plant it! And given the pace of his plummet that would not be fun at all! 

Instead of trying to violently jerk his broom around and probably hit the surface hard at it, Draco decided to go for the lesser of two evils.

Taking in a deep breath he pinched his eyes shut and leaned forward to minimise the angle of incidence as he dived full speed into the water. 

**OO**  

Within an instant Hermione was on her feet, storming down the water’s edge in a hurry. With a loud splash, right before her eyes Draco had just disappeared beneath the surface. 

“Draco?!” she called out through the billows of mist. “Draco!?” There was no answer. 

She could not spot him anywhere. He had to be underwater still. Ice-cold fear was running through her as she stumbled forward, slipping over the uneven embankment of mud and gravel wading waist deep into the water. 

“Draco!” she called again. Fear was clutching at her heart. Fear that was bordering to desperation. “Draco…Draco… where are you!? Say something! Please! Draco…” 

There was no sign of him, still. 

Hot tears were welling up in her eyes blurring her vision and streaming down her cheeks. She blinked them away, furiously as she stormed onward with terrible pain and fear clutching her heart and soul.

_This could not be…_ _He could not… must not be… hurt… or worse…_

 She did not even dare to think any further about the disturbing possibility he might be floating face down in the icy water, unconscious or worse, much worse even… 

“Draco…” she called again, the mist muffling her voice, almost absorbing it. 

The water’s icy chill caused her to gasp for breath. Her wet robes were clinging to her legs as she stumbled onward.

Just when she thought she could bear it no longer Draco returned to the surface. Wet as a cat, snorting and gasping for breath he struggled against the coil of wet cloths clinging to his legs until he suddenly paused in mid movement to stare at her in amazement. 

“Hermione!?” he gasped not quite believing his eyes. “What are _you_ doing in here?!”

**OO**  

Utterly surprised and startled to find her in the icy water he paddled towards her until his feet felt out solid ground again. Then he stood, the water now only reaching up to his hips so he could finally hive himself off, forward – towards her. 

The moment she took sight of him Hermione jumped forward likewise, reaching out to him with a sob of relief.

“Draco!” she gasped. “There you are! You’re fine?! Oh Draco… I was _so_ worried!” 

Without further thinking Draco caught her as she hurled forward – right into his arms – to clutch him into a crushing, almost painful hug. “Hermione…” he gasped taken by surprise entirely. 

“You’re not hurt? You’re just all right?! Honestly?” she muttered over and over again her voice slightly hitching in a mixture of relief and fury at his stupidity, the panic slowly ebbing away from it. 

“You’re _such an_ – _idiot_!” she suddenly exclaimed. “You’re completely, utterly _crazy,_ Draco Malfoy, you know that!?” 

“You were worried?” he asked in awe, leaning back to look at her, his hands still holding her by her shoulders. He could not help but smile – broadly. 

She merely shook her head only to nod the very next second, fumbling at the front of his robes, clutching them tightly, as he noticed with some kind of amusement. “Yes.” she admitted, kind of weakly, “Yes I was…” 

Her forehead nudged into his chest as she leaned into him the very next second. On an impulse Draco leaned in as well, attempting to rest his cheek against the crown of her head, still smiling, when she suddenly threw her head back in a rash, unexpected movement that caused him to flinch with surprise. She was missing him by inches as it seemed. She glared right up at him. She was fuming. 

“Of course I was!” she suddenly yelled, pummelling and slapping his chest with a couple of half-hearted punches that made him realise how wrought up and troubled she actually was. “Even if I certainly don’t know, why! You… you…” 

Amusement instantly made room for concern and some strange feeling of remorse. He felt actually _guilty_ for causing her such discomfort. Guilty of worrying her…   

“Hermione,” he murmured soothingly, just as another punch hit him right in the chest. 

“Ouch…” Grasping her hands in his, stilling them to rest in the place right above his heart, he realised how badly her fingers were shaking as she was now cringing at the wet material of his robes again. 

“Whoa- Hermione,” he murmured, once again… “Hermione…Don’t _kill_ me right away, will you?!” he pleaded, soothingly and a tad amused once again. For some reason this seemed to agitate her even further, though. 

“Oh no!” she snapped, “You wouldn’t need any help on that! You seem quite capable of doing that yourself, aren’t you?!” 

“Hermione,” he insisted comfortingly, holding her against himself he realised she was still trembling in a mixture of fear and rage. “Look, I’m sorry…” he whispered, removing one of his hands to soothingly stroke the back of her head. “I’m sorry, Hermione…I…I didn’t think…I…” 

“That’s obvious,” she snapped. “Apparently you didn’t think, Draco! You just decided to be a complete git – once again, didn’t you? You’re horrible…” she gasped, struggling for self composure, “you’re just… just…oh…Oh Draco…” 

Then she was in his arms again – laughing and scolding at him at the same time. He did not care. All he could think about was that she was hugging him, shivering in a mixture of relief and the aftermath of shock. 

Stunned, captivated by wonder and delight, Draco closed his eyes, valuing the feel of Hermione in his arms. He clearly felt her flinch at the feel of his dripping wet robes drenching hers with icy water. She gasped with shock, stirred, but did not let go.

She remained just were she was, hugging him, brushing his icy cold cheeks with her hands as she kept telling him off.

Then she was leaning in to him more closely, again, her forehead resting against his now, so her warm breath was brushing across his face as she continuously reassured him how much of an idiot he was. 

It was sheer delight! She had been worried! About him!  

It was a thought so powerful, so incredibly wonderful it caught the breath in his throat.

**OO**  

At the feel of Draco’s icy cold, wet cheek against her face and neck Hermione started shivering. Her head was spinning in a mixture of worry and happiness.

She could not move, could not do anything but stay just were she was. Hugging Draco Malfoy in the icy lake on a chilly, misty late October’s day. 

Like that they just stood there in the water, clinging to each other, pressing their foreheads and cheeks together, gasping and panting for breath in the aftermath of fear and excitement.

Feeling his icy cheek against hers – water dripping into the collar of her cloak, running down the skin of her neck, tickling it with its icy chill, Hermione just held Draco – and everything was just _perfect_ as it was.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered very close to her ear. “I’m so sorry I frightened you. Please, don’t be mad, Hermione…” 

“I’m not mad…” she uttered mildly. “I’m just… I’m so relieved… so glad you aren’t hurt… That’s… that’s all… Oh Draco… Just tell me… Are you really fine, then?” she muttered profoundly, nuzzling his cheek and neck “Tell me…” 

“I’m fine,” he whispered back, likewise nuzzling her neck now, “I’m fine – everything is all right, Hermione…”

Their breaths were mingling in a mixture of panting and laughter as he nudged his forehead against hers, increasing the feel of longing in her chest, until Hermione thought she might go entirely crazy if he did not kiss her. Now. 

Since he probably would not, there was just one way to solve this. 

“Draco…” she whispered, once again. “Ohhh- Draco…” She closed her eyes, gathering up courage.  

The feeling of his warm lips on her forehead caused her to jerk her eyes open the very next second. While this was not bad at all, it was not exactly was she had hoped for, either. It did not pass for the kiss she’d had in mind… it did not pass at all! She wanted… more… 

So much more! 

In a way the feeling of his warm lips on her skin only made it worse. This longing – deep inside her chest… 

Even if it was just a gentle caress of her forehead, which was meant for nothing but comfort, it was her undoing that started a whole cascade of fantasies to swamp her away and right off her feet… 

Imagining his lips might actually brush soft, sweet kisses down across her face until they found hers, covering them in a smooth, gentle caress – the mere idea of what his hot mouth clasping hers with tender, yet significant determination might actually feel like – caused her to whimper deep down in her throat. 

In a far corner of her mind Hermione – knew – it was a bad idea – knew – she would probably regret it bitterly to have scared him away like this in a few seconds already, but her mind was not in lead right now. It was to no use. It was hopeless.

She was so violently in love with him she realised with astonishing clearness. She was restlessly and utterly enamoured of Draco Malfoy.

Impossible or not – she just _had_ to kiss him – just now – just this once… She simply could not resist…

To hell with the consequences… 

With a soft sigh of longing, Hermione leaned forward to clasp Draco’s lips with hers…missing him by inches, since he was already leaning back again just that instant.

A wave of frustration captured her. She was not even sure if he realised what she had been about to do… 

“I’m really sorry that I caused you such trouble, Hermione. It’s the last thing you need right now, I’m aware of that,” he muttered very softly, smiling at her in a gentle, protective kind of way that made her feel only stronger for him. 

“But you’re freezing! Oh… Oh dear… It’s way too cold… for you. You’re shivering even,” he whispered, rubbing her forearms in a gentle, caressing kind of way. “You ought to be careful, Hermione. You mustn’t catch a cold.” 

Her mind only slowly clearing Hermione could not pull her gaze from his soft, compassionate eyes. Who would have imagined even a couple of weeks ago – that Draco Malfoy went all attentive towards her! It was definitely something she could imagine of getting used to. Though it was still strange and breathtakingly exciting it was flattering, and seriously addictive, too. It was just so incredible, utterly sweet of him… _He_ was sweet… incredible…addictive… 

To hide the uproar of emotion she felt at these thoughts and at the clear, unmasked display of his gentleness and concern, Hermione blinked frantically as she fought the urge to just melt into his eyes.

“I’m not in such delicate health, Draco,” she scoffed, lips switching in amusement as she finally managed to snap out of it 

“No, but you’re in a delicate way,” he replied softly while – apparently on its own accord – his hand reached down to touch her still flat belly in a gentle, protective gesture, sending a myriad of butterflies right through her abdomen. “You’re certainly a lot more sensitive right now, Hermione,” he whispered softly. 

Apparently sensing her flinching he obviously mistook her sudden, reaction for discomfort.

“A little ticklish, are we?” he teased with a mischievous smile as he now purposely titillated her, causing her to cringe with surprise, now seriously squirming and writhing in his arms. 

“Draco-o…” she gasped, as she bucked against him brushing his hands off in a desperate attempt to escape his teasing assault. “Stop that… Stop!” she shrieked, doubling up with laughter as he merely refused to let go of her. 

“Umm, Hermione… you appear to be kind of stressed! Something…troubling you, hu?” he teased, playing the innocent. 

“Dra-co-o…” she whined collapsing against him in defeat… 

He immediately stopped tickling her. Turning serious again he removed his left hand from her waist, now cupping her cheek in a tender gesture once again.

“Honestly – you couldn’t even take Pepper-up Potion right now – you _need_ to be a little more careful, you know?” he murmured fondly. “So come on now Hermione. Come. We need to get you out of those wet cloths of yours as quick as possible…ummm…I…I mean…” he trailed off, startled at his choice of words. 

Just that instant the sun was breaking through the thick grey blanket of clouds for the first time that day, shimmering on the lake’s surface and illuminating the banks of mist around engulfing them into a haze of blinding brightness. 

Relieved of all the stress and worry she had previously endured, Hermione broke into a full blown laugh at the charming awkwardness of the situation.

“Well – you’re _lucky_ with words!” she mocked, causing him to cringe with embarrassment. “Not especially shy, are you?!” 

“I wasn’t…” he stammered, blushing to the roots of his hair. “Hermione I didn’t mean to…I…I…wasn’t implying…” 

“Relax!” she giggled. “Don’t psych out, OK?! I know you didn’t! But you’re probably right. It’s no season for swimming in the lake…” 

“Not quite,” he agreed a little awkward still, flashing her a full blown, wholehearted smile. “So then – come on, let’s hurry up to our rooms…and take a hot shower, shall we?” he laughed insecurely as he reached for her hand to pull her along with him, out of the lake. 

Hermione gracefully overlooked the fact this was hardly any better. Accepting his hand, she started to wade out of the water, climbing up the muddy, slippery bank along with him. 

“You certainly have a _fun_ idea of ‘ _outdoor-activity’_ Draco Malfoy …” she declared, still grinning.

OO 

In contrast to the spectacular happenings in the morning and early afternoon the rest of the day passed quite uneventful. After taking a hot shower and putting some dry cloths on, Hermione had huddled herself onto one of the couches with a thick woollen blanket and a mug of steaming hot Darjeeling tea. For the rest of the afternoon she was working on the Transfigurations task, she had not been able to complete in the morning.   

By the end of the day she was plainly fagged out, but when she was finally lying in bed, sleep simply would not come.

Only now in the cosines of the dark she dared to reflect on the day’s happenings. There was absolutely _no_ way she was able to lie to herself about it any longer. 

She had managed to become _infatuated_ with Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately enough – she was also pregnant with Harry Potter’s child. Not the perfect combination probably, she assumed. 

With a sigh of frustration Hermione probed herself up against the head of her bed, staring into the dark. What a mess! Embarrassing as it might be, she had almost made a complete fool out of herself by approaching Draco with her yearning, wanton advances. 

What on earth was he about to think of her now?! If she imagined that she had almost thrown herself at him... 

Could she really be so lucky that he had not realised she had been about to kiss him? Or rather to snogg him senseless – she mentally corrected herself. A thought at which she felt heat creeping up her face.

She certainly would not have been satisfied by a sweet little peck on the cheek! Nor would she have liked to stop once she might have managed to truly taste the sweetness of his lips…

She could only imagine the amount of shock she would have most certainly caused him with actions like that. 

She was hardly recognising herself anymore. She, who had been always proud to be a ‘ _good girl_ ’, sensible, hardworking, and just plain – righteous could see none of those characterisations to fit herself anymore. In fact she was acting like a thoughtless, shameless little trollop instead, she supposed.

Not enough that she had somehow managed to get herself knocked up by _‘the boy who creased to care she existed by the time she had finally realised’_ – no, she had to lust after another one already, one who had treated her like dirt for the longest time. She was throwing herself at him, no matter how much he probably did - _not_ \- want her… damaged goods as she had to be in his eyes now… How terrible!

 Hiding her flushed cheeks in her hands Hermione closed her eyes as she remembered the scene in all its embarrassing details.

It still did not help. The mere _thought_ of him caused the blood to rush in her ears just as her heart started pounding wildly in her chest.

There was no denying it. She was restlessly _smitten_ with him…. 

Another rush of desire rippled through her at the memory of his gentleness and comfort.

The soft, warmth of his lips on her forehead. The precious sensation of his breath brushing across her cheek and neck as he had held her… It was so tempting to imagine that gentle, comforting hug to be a tender, cuddly lover’s embrace. 

Memory was mingling with wishful thinking and before she even realised it, Hermione entangled herself into a heated mess of amorous rapture and longing as her thoughts were crossing the border between mere memory and imagination and were now drifting away into a world of their own…

_She was once again in the icy lake… with Draco Malfoy…_

_With a tangled cry she was pressing herself against him, feeling the icy wetness of his cloths soaking the front of her robes as he hugged her in return, pressing her firmly – almost crushingly - against himself._

He had certainly liked that. Most certainly the clear, unmasked concern she had shown for him must have been flattering at the very least. Massaging his ego…

_‘Well, well…’_ the nasty little voice in the back of her head commented, ‘ _his ego wouldn’t have been all you attempted to ummm…. touch back then – would it?!’_

The flush in her cheeks only increased at this. There was quite a lot more of him she would like to _touch,_ indeed. 

She just – _longed_ \- to run her fingers through that incredible platinum-blond hair of his. She – longed – to cup his face with both of her hands… She – longed – to gaze into the soft pool of his eyes of which she always wondered whether they might be more blue or rather silvery-grey… She – longed – to pull his head down towards her, to snuggle her face against his, nuzzling the crook of his shoulder, breathing, nipping and softly nabbing at his neck and earlobe to send shivers of pleasure across his spine, causing him to gasp in a mixture of surprise and amazement so she would find his lips slightly parted when she finally – finally – leaned in to clasp his mouth with hers in a possessive yet so loving kind of way that would make him light-headed with desire.   

And this time in the safety of her night-time bedroom fantasy, Draco Malfoy kissed her back… And – boy oh boy – how he did… 

_Quite in contrast to the rest of his body his mouth was warm almost smouldering in its intensity. The breath that escaped his lips at the gasp of her name when he leaned in to kiss her felt likewise tantalisingly, thrillingly hot as it brushed across the coldness of her skin._

_“Hermione…” he murmured…. “Her..ummm…mione”_

_Intense longing captured her as he started to caress her lips with just the tip of his tongue. Its soft nudging against the roof of her mouth drove her completely, utterly crazy. It made her long for him so intensely that she could not help but moan out aloud as she kissed him back._

_Her mouth was welcoming his, inviting him to deepen and intensify the kiss as she now eagerly responded with a hot open-mouthed kiss in return. With a slight moan of delight he more or less ‘jumped at her’. His tongue slipping in between her lips, nudging them apart to plunge into the hot cave of her mouth – claiming her… heart, body and soul…and so - before either of them realised what was happening, they were entangled in a passionate, real deep kiss panting and clinging to each other with a passion that was bordering to desperation…_

The mere idea of how precious and intoxicating the taste of his mouth on hers would actually be… how very much she was going to want him once he started kissing her – like that – once he started to fully, truly kiss her in frantic, complete earnest… once he lay as much of his own being into the kiss as she would… flinging his very soul around hers just like the sweet, utmost heartfelt caresses of his tongue twirling around hers… was just incredibly wonderful. 

He was setting every nerve of her skin on alert by the intensity of his kiss…and he… did not even _really_ kiss her… Good gracious! He was not even _there_ … 

She was merely _fantasising_ about kissing him and yet it was enough to evoke a sweet itchy feeling of warmth within her loins.Gasping for breath Hermione bit her lip… She was in lust! Seriously and intensely aroused by the very thought of kissing Draco Malfoy.

There was no denying that, either. 

However hopeless it might be – she simply could not stop thinking of him, imagining – _his_ –hands to be in the place of hers as she started to softly touch and fondle herself beneath the gown. 

Achingly slow, teasingly, Hermione brushed along the shape of her body. Within an instant gooseflesh was covering her skin. Her heartbeat and breathing quickened just as a sweet pool of moisture was forming between her legs. Longing, pleading – aching – to be touched…

Soon, very soon she was trembling from the sheer agony of this intense, completely unfamiliar amount of heavy sexual craving. 

A soft whimpering sound escaped her lips as she started to cup and softly knead the soft roundness of her recently so very tender breasts. Her thumbs were brushing over the darkened, almost painfully sensitive nipples. Slowly, almost tentatively at first – but firmly enough to get her so _very_ aroused, so incredibly hot and wanton, her entire body was burning with need. She sighed and moaned and quivered with desire as she continued to intensely rub and fondle herself. 

All the while she was thinking of – _him_ –imagining _his_ tongue and teeth to softly and utmost gently tease and kiss her sensitive nipples instead. She gasped out aloud at the torturous sweet, but heavy twinge of desire that flashed through her lower belly as she imagined _his_ hot mouth – brushing across the tender skin of her décolleté, breasts and throat smothering her with kisses. 

“Draco…” she murmured, aching back as her hips bucked up in a desperate attempt to press herself against her imaginative lover. She was longing for the feel of _his_ caressing hands in the place of hers as she finally touched her most sensitive area through the hot, damp fabric of her knickers – brushing them aside to gently rub and fondle herself. 

“Oh Draco… I…I need…I want…I just... _want_ you!!! Oh Draco…Please….” 

She was shuddering within the sudden intense shock of pleasure as she imagined lying with him. To actually, really _feel_ him right on top of her just here and now… Snogging her senseless… 

“Draco…” she sighed once again… The sound of his name appeared to be an incredibly sweet highly treasured aphrodisiac of its own. 

She could not get enough of speaking it aloud. Her voice was dark and thick with passion as she whispered his name – the most beautiful, cherished and breathtaking name she could possibly imagine. 

“Draco…”she whimpered longingly, almost pleadingly; as if she could somehow cause him to become real in her arms by the mere force of willpower, by merely uttering and moaning his name – over and over again. 

She ached for him. She ached for him all over. She ached for his kiss. She ached for the sweet and soft yet significant caress of his palms all over her body. But most of all she ached for the torturous sweet, delicious feel of his weight on top of her – for the feel of his arms around her back, holding her, while he was grinding his hips into hers in a frantic, passionate rhythm, their bodies covered by nothing but the sheets. _Entirely_ conjoint with one another… 

Restlessly engulfed by her fantasy Hermione moaned out aloud. Her hips bucked upward against those of her imaginative lover in a frantic, mindless display of desperate, reckless abandon…

“Draco…” she panted…her legs moving further apart on their own accord… her hips soaring upwards once more, bucking into the frantic caress of her trembling, fingers… 

_Gasping for breath Hermione opened her lips as Draco’s hot tongue slipped across them, rubbing and gently sucking her own. Sweet. Needy. Rhythmically. The very tip of his tongue was c_ _aressing the roof of her mouth now – tantalizingly slow and sweet - suggestively._

_The low, desperate sounds emerging from his throat were only adding to the pleasure of it. Spurring her passion._

_He longed for her! Just as much as she did for him. The hot and heavy evidence of his desire leaving no doubt of this as he was pressing against her - causing her to get if possibly even more hot and right out wanton ..._  

_Their kiss grew more and more fevering and intense – until the both of them could not keep back any longer…._

_With a gasp of anticipation Hermione’s legs came apart. She ached all over to feel him do it – to really do it to her. She ached to feel him claiming her aching, needy heat just as his mouth was claiming hers in that breathtaking, smouldering kiss._

Helplessly aroused and lost in her intense fondness and desire for him she bucked up once again. 

She tried her best to muffle her moans of pleasure within the pillows – grabbing the material of it right between her teeth as the first shudder of release captured her. She really tried to not cry out aloud – first…

It was to no use, though.

With a sudden, sharp gasp of pleasure Hermione threw her head back – convulsing within the violence of passion as she imagined Draco Malfoy deep inside of her… 

When Hermione became aware of her surroundings again, the sound of her own heartbeat was still pondering in her ears. Her rash, laboured breathing slowly easing out, she was still glowing in the aftermath of passion.

Her entire body was covered in a dainty film of sweat. Her gown - seized up across her hips - was clinging to her skin – the hot, damp fabric of her knickers telling a tale of its own. 

She flushed bright red as realisation of what she had just done drew into her…

She could hardly believe it, but she had actually just brought herself off fantasising about _Draco Malfoy_ … and it had been just … mind-blowing…. 

So – _that_ – was what she had never managed to achieve with Harry so far? That was what everyone was making such a fuss about!

She could not deny it was worth the trouble!

Whereas she had definitely liked the feel of pleasuring herself before, she had never, ever come close to what she had experienced just now… Nor had she felt anything remotely related to this complete and utter bliss at with Harry… not once… 

With Draco it was a different cause as it seemed… and he… _was not even there_ …

She whished he were, though. While the former intense desire for him appeared to be currently soothed, the deep, almost painful ache in her chest certainly was not… She still longed for him… _badly_ … She longed for him to put his arms around her… longed for his lips on hers, soft, sweet and gently… Especially now…

Well – that was definitely something to gnaw at… 

Quiet and very thoughtfully Hermione remained lying in the dark – recovering from the aftermath of her passionate imaginative powers. Slowly, but undeniably she realised what Draco Malfoy meant to her and only after a long, a _very_ long time of staring into the dark, she finally fell asleep. 

**OO**  

On his own bed only next room Draco Malfoy was lying awake in the dark, unable to block Hermione Granger from his mind.

Once again he was musing about the way she had hugged him at the lake – in – the lake to be precise. He was musing about how nicely her wet cloths, clinging to her body had been showing off more of her figure than she had apparently been aware of.

He smiled at the memory of feeling her in his arms – amid the icy water. She had hugged him so intensely, so very profoundly back then. He still could not get over the fact that she had stormed into the icy lake to look for him!

It had been something he had been musing over all afternoon. She had been _worried_ about – him! She had been actually worried…. 

And all he had been able to think about was how very much he had longed to kiss her… How much he had wanted to find out if it might be remotely like the kiss they had shared at the Potions classroom the previous week, when he had dared to act upon his ‘ _first and foremost intentions’_ in the shape of his older self. 

The mere imagination of kissing her out there in the icy lake with their wet cloths clinging to their skin, hugging her with desperate intensity, had caused him to get into a state of longing that had creased to leave him ever since. He was shaken by his wrought up feelings. He was definitely, doubtlessly aroused, deeply stirred and seriously impassioned by Hermione Granger… 

He should not think of her in that way. He really should not. It was simply not right.

She trusted him. She even drew comfort in him. He must not let her down on it. If she were to find out about the fact that he was lusting after her like this, she would suppose all of his actions to be triggered by just that – lust. Plain simple lust. She would suppose him to play an act on her – to only be nice and kind to her to get into her favour. To get into her knickers – as Potter had so nicely worded it… And that – _simply was not true._  

He _was_ affected by her, yes – there was no denying that – but there was more, there was so much more to it than plain simple lust! 

And though he still tried to come to his senses, he knew he was struggling in vain. He was definitely fond of her – more than fond and given the way she reacted to his closeness and what she had said about sensing this so supposed _‘ancient wandless magic_ ’ between them the other day, the way she had been worried about him today, made him hope against hope that deep down in her heart – without even realising it so far – she might feel something more than mere thankfulness for his support and comfort some day. 

There had been the spell of Trust and Care after all…. It was not bound to refer to exclusively – this – kind of emotional attachment of course. Nonetheless he had a pretty good idea what it was for him.

Maybe, if he was gentle and careful in his advances towards her – if he took himself time to earn more of her respect, trust and affection, maybe he might actually have a chance to win her heart then… 

Right now she was way too troubled and scared to oversee the true origin of her needs. He had to keep his hands off her until she did. 

He simply could not stand the idea she might actually give in to his amorous advances, confusing gratefulness and the desperate craving for physical and emotional comfort with sexual desire. He could not stand the idea of watching her dear, kind face – her soft amber eyes – clouding with disappointment and disgust at him, if realising that he had taken advantage of her when she had been most vulnerable. She certainly did not need that.

She was scared. She was confused. She was lonely and probably heartbroken and he could hardly stand by and watch her suffering so much. He wanted to make her realise his action towards her was not triggered by pity or compassion at all.

It felt like physical pain having to bottle all these feelings up inside of himself for the time being, when all he truly wanted was telling her how dear and precious she was to him, how happy she made him every moment she was just there. How much he longed to be around her to just watch her reading… preparing potions ingredients… eating… walking along the corridors of Hogwarts by his side… sleeping… 

He just could not forget the sight of her, curled up atop her bed fast asleep the other day, when he had come to look for her before the staff meeting. She had looked so lovely, so incredible sweet and deserving protection. He could not even tell what exactly the sight of her had meant to him then, but he had _longed_ to see her like that again ever since… 

How much he longed for her to be peacefully asleep and contently curled up in the save shelter of his arms, so he could feel some strands of her hair tickling his cheek and nose as he snuggled up close behind her, nuzzling his face deeper into her curls so he could kiss the soft skin of her nape beneath all these masses of hair, inhaling her soft sweet scent… 

And while thinking of this might even still pass in his opinion, it simply did not pass to fantasise about caressing her sleeping form... 

_His hands were roaming her body with teasingly soft yet significant movements…_

_His hands were following the outline of her waist, her hips and belly, reaching up to gently cup and fondle her breasts while spooning her, pressing himself against her backside so she could feel him… so she could feel how very much he actually liked her closeness…How much he longed for her…_

_His lips were nuzzling her neck, affectionately, teasingly, brushing kisses across the soft, sensitive area behind her ear, whispering her name…_

_’Hermione’ he muttered softly, grasping her earlobe with his teeth the very next second, evoking a soft whimper of delight from her in return, causing her to contort herself within his arms, to shift and rub her backside against him, moaning his name in her sleep._

It was a fantasy so intense he almost meant to actually – _hear_ – her gasping, moaning his name within the throes of passion.

The mere idea of hearing her voice, thick and heavy with desire, calling – _his_ – name drove him absolutely, utterly crazy… 

_Affirmed by the eagerness of her response he grew bolder, allowing his hands to caress and fondle her more freely now, running the tips of his fingers across the skin of her legs in a feather light, teasing caress - causing her to respond with a soft whimpering sound – and further upwards until they actually disappeared beneath the hem of her skirt…_  

He did imagine her as he had seen her – atop her bed in her school uniform.

_‘Was she lying atop her bed like that now? Or was she wearing a gown instead?’_ he wondered swallowing against the hard lump of longing in his throat.

_‘And if she did? Would she be wearing anything beneath her nightclothes? Or would she rather be nude beneath the gown… exposed and vulnerable…to his touch?’_  

A low moan of desire escaped his lips as he imagined his hand to travel across the roundness of her buttocks…

_… following the curve of her hips and midriff to travel along the soft, sensitive area of her loins and belly, cupping and softly rubbing the solid firmness of the little mount beneath, dragging her closer against himself, just as he pressed against her from behind, caressing the soft but firm shape of her buttocks…_  

“Hermione…” he gasped at the mere idea of touching her like that…exploring the eager, sensual heat he was to find as he started to softly rub and fondle her… 

Once again the sound of her calling out his name in a rush of lust felt almost real…

It was so easy to imagine this to be just true to actually – _really_ – hold her like this… to feel her respond to his wanton, desirous advances in a heated, frenzy of delight… shifting her legs to give his caressing fingers more access to her deliciously ready and welcoming heat. The mere thought of this caused him to almost loose it on the spot… 

“Hermione” he moaned, desperately aroused and yearning for her… “Ohh…Hermione…Hermione!” 

_Taking pity on him his incredible seductive image of Hermione rolled onto her back at that, dragging him close… along with her… and he… was more than eager to oblige… His mouth found hers in a heated, passionate kiss as he rolled on top of her, bucking his hips into hers just as she ached up beneath him in return with a moan of his name…_  

Quite on its own accord his hand had found its way down towards thehard almost painfully eager evidence of his desire, bothering him, imagining it to be _her hand_ instead. Longing for _her_ hand, to softly touch, rub and fondle him – creating an almost unbearable stir of passion and desire… 

It was not right to think of her like that! It simply was not right! Finding out about it would trouble her – it might drive her away even… He could not risk that – he mustn’t… 

Nonetheless he was way too much aroused to just back off now… When he could not take the uncomfortable mixture of guilt, longing and desire any longer he finally started to seriously buck into the firm caress of his hand, trying to focus on his actions alone, rather than on the one who had caused his longing in the first place… But no matter how hard he tried, it was to no use. He just could not stop thinking of her… He just could not… Over and over again Draco Malfoy found his thought returning towards his fantasy of making hot, passionate love to Hermione Granger… 

Therefore despite the nagging feeling of guilt he was finally giving in to the intense ache to think of _her_ and her alone, longing for her body to be combined with his – conjoining with his in the most tremendous, thoroughly and significant way he could imagine…

“Hermione…” he called out in a rapture of pure agony and bliss as every rational thought left his mind… “ _Hermione_ …” 

Utterly confused… he remained lying there in the dark, his heart still hammering in his chest…his ragged breathing slowly easing out, while he reflected on his inappropriate, but intense desire for Hermione Granger – reflected on how much he wanted to hold and kiss her like that – all through the night…

How much he wanted to show his adore and affection for her although there was probably not a single person in the world who might approve on it… He kept musing about how much he wanted to fill in just where Potter had left her – to take his place within her heart… her bed… her life… 

For the time being this was – way too much – for her, though.

The time was not ripe for telling her any of this – she needed time to heal and regain her self compose after all the heartache and disillusionment she had endured… He wanted to help her to break through the sorrow and pain she was probably still struggling with. She needed time to even remotely consider him to become involved with her like that and he was determinant to give her what she needed – whatever she needed – no matter how hard, how difficult it might become for him. He would keep himself back. 

Besides that there was the quite considerably fact that she was pregnant – _with Harry Potter’s child_ – of course… He just wondered why on earth this was the least important problem in his opinion. 

It took him a long time to calm his tangled mess of emotion enough to fall asleep that night and as he finally did, his dreams were deliciously focussed on Hermione Granger once again…. 

**AN:** Whoa- that was kind of difficult, but fun to write...

I hope you enjoyed it, too, even if it was ‘ _just’_ imagination so far. It’s hard to tell who has got it worse. So far Draco was worse, I suppose. But I think Hermione is definitely catching up on him in this chapter. 

Thanks for your nice feedback and encouragement! 

Smiles, Serpentina


	19. A faint drizzle

By the arrival of Monday morning the previous day’s misty haze had advanced into a faint drizzle. A clouded sky hovered above the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling.      
Out of the blurs of damp, grey harvest air a large, dark eagle owl appeared, circling the Slytherin Table. Once she had spotted the platinum-blond head, outstanding amongst the rest of the students, she drove down to land atop the table, right in front of the addressee.  

In his seat at the High Table, Severus Snape narrowed his eyes as he contemplated his godson. Instead of his usual calm nonchalance, Draco Malfoy seemed to be all at sea this morning. Severus doubted to have ever seen him in a state like this before. He did not participate in the conversation around. If addressed directly, he confined himself to short and disinterested responses that made it utterly clear that he wanted to be left to his own musings.  

The only question was… Why!?   

While Severus had no problem imagining him to have staged all that recent fussing about Miss Granger with the intent to merely push Potter’s buttons and cause him to loose his ridiculously predictable Gryffindor temper, it was a completely different and utterly disturbing matter to watch the blond Slytherin now.  

He was behaving well and truly funny this morning. So far he had not even bothered to open the letter, which bore the unmissable imprint of Lucius Malfoy’s signet ring. 

Whereas Pansy Parkinson was apparently curious to learn more about that letter’s content, Draco could not have cared less. Instead of opening the envelope he continuously attempted to be an idiot – and he did rather well in Severus’ opinion.   

Over and over again his eyes were glancing along the rows of students at the Gryffindor Table, flickering towards the large Entrance Door for a moment, only to return towards the plate in front of him in clear disappointment the very next second. He had not touched much of his food so far. For all it looked like, he was way too preoccupied by his thoughts. 

He could not be  _serious_  about the show he had put on during the last couple of days, could he?     

It had to be an act! It simply  _could_  not be anything else. It was just too odd, too strange too impossible to be true… 

And yet… 

There! Hermione Granger had arrived.  

Severus could tell from the brief flash of – well, whatever it was – with which Draco’s malfoy-blue eyes lit up as soon as he spotted her. He was soothed and disturbed at the same time. He was agitated! 

What the heck was going on? 

Hermione Granger, who helped herself to some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, was doubtlessly unaware of the confusion she had triggered within the normally controlled and nonchalant wizard.  

She did not eat much, either. She more or less just toyed with the food on her plate while her eyes flickered towards the Slytherin table every now and then in what she probably assumed to be a discrete way.  

Well, she might be unaware – but she definitely was not uninterested.  

She looked different, Severus noticed. She looked more confident than she had during the last couple of weeks – almost a little brightened up. 

She still sat in a different spot, a few seats away from Potter and his crew, but something about her appearance had changed. She no longer resembled a picture of misery. She was far from her erstwhile annoyingly righteous Know-it-all attitude, but there was doubtlessly some change in her posture.  

This interaction was definitely something to keep an eye upon. Today’s third lesson was Potions after all. That should become interesting to watch. Severus doubted he had ever looked forward to a lesson so much.

**OO**   
  


Down at the Potions lab Hermione Granger was quite unrelaxed, waiting for Draco Malfoy to arrive. Unlike the other day she was no longer worried whether or not he would bring her book and cauldron along – this time she was rather nervous to face him at all.  

As far as rational thinking was concerned there was not a problem. He could hardly know of the steamy fantasy she had entangled herself within the previous night, after all.  

But what about falling in love had ever been rational? Hermione wondered if he might possibly just see it in her face or in the way she would be looking at him. She knew it was stupid, but she just could not help it. She was seriously smitten with Draco Malfoy! 

Her cheeks, so ashen of late, actually held the soft rose tinge of a flush as she nervously waited for his arrival. The moment he finally did, she felt all jittery with excitement.  

“Hey,” he greeted her, an uncharacteristic tentative little smile playing around his lips, as he slipped into the seat beside her.  

“Hey,” she responded, smiling back at him, just as cautiously. Her fingers felt a little clammy and were actually shaking as she reached across the table to take hold of her book and cauldron. She was  _so_ nervous. It was ridiculous, indeed, but she just was.   

It did not help that she felt their classmates’ eyes fixed on them. In fact, considering the spectacle of their last potions lesson, she could hardly blame them. 

Besides that, everyone inside this classroom had been around at the previous Friday’s Flying class as well and Hermione was sure rumours had caught up about the ‘library-incident’, too. She sighed. How lovely.   

“Did you sleep well?” 

Hermione was snatched out of her musings by the soft timbre of his voice. How could the sound of it feel so utterly familiar already, she wondered.  

For the first time that day she dared to fully focus her attention onto him and as their eyes found each other it caught the very breath within her throat. They were their very special, stunning mixture of blue and grey as usual, soft and kind and a tad nervous, possibly, but that was not all of it. In fact, there was something entirely unreadable within Draco’s gaze that had not been there before. 

 Since she had been so focussed on his eyes, Hermione did miss the fact that Draco had been shoving a little object in her direction. Just when his fingertips brushed against hers all of a sudden, she flinched at the unexpected touch. A bolt of electricity seemed to run up her arm. Immediately, almost startled Draco drew his hand back, too.   

Her skin tingled with anticipation but the little touch did not return and Hermione felt it incredibly hard to fight against the longing to reach out for him – to once again feel the shudder of delight she felt whenever she touched his skin. Determined not to make a complete fool out of herself she merely stretched and flexed her fingers instead, before – she too drew herhand back.    

“What’s that?” she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse. She nodded towards the little cellophane bag with the red ribbon that was now placed atop her Potions textbook.  

“Just some candy from Honeydukes. I thought you’d like,” he muttered from beneath a few stands of his hair that had fallen across his eyes.  

Hermione was startled at the almost bizarre urge to just reach out and brush them back for him – to softly run her fingertips across his temples and into his hair. 

She swallowed hard at the memory of how soft and silky his hair had felt, when she had brushed the cobwebs out of it the other day. They had stumbled across the store boxes in the broom shed only seconds before and….No! Oh no! She would not think of – _that_ – now! 

“For me?” she whispered. Her voice had a slightly disbelieving note to it.  

“Yes, for you,” he muttered, a slight smile playing around his lips once again.   

“Tha- t-hank you, Draco.” Without even realising it she smiled at him, truly, heartfelt and – happily. 

“You’re welcome Hermione.” His eyes lit up as he smiled back at her and once more the gaze they shared was captivating in its enchantment and intensity.   

Neither of them noticed the lesson was to begin until Snape’s snide voice cut the silence. 

“The Potions’ lab is no place for a picnic,” he drawled. “I’m mildly surprised that our current Head Girl needs to be reminded of a fact as simple as that! Ten points off Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for breaking the rules.  _Again_.” 

Startled, Hermione’s head snapped up at that. Out of an impulse her hand reached for the little bag of sweets, covering it in a gesture of protectiveness. 

Draco’s head snapped up likewise and she clearly noticed a glint of annoyance in his eyes.  

“I beg your pardon, Professor…” he began, but Hermione’s hand on his forearm stopped him.  

“You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, Professor Snape,” she addressed the dark scowling man, calmly. For a moment she thought she might be lucky, but when she picked up the little gift to slip it into the pocket of her robe, she was startled by a sound of disapprove once again.  

“You had better be– Miss Granger – and now, put those into the dustbin.”  

It might be unwise to rush into a fight with Snape about a matter as unimportant as this, it was just….  It was  _not,_ she realised. Somehow this little gift was  _very important_  to her, indeed. Very special and – precious. She just could not give up on it.  

Nervously she tried to bargain, only too aware of the fact how utterly pointless it was to bargain with Snape once he had directed an order at someone.  

“But there is no need for such a thing, Professor. It has not even been open, yet.” Hermione contradicted hoping against hope to get along with it.    

Snape’s dark eyes widened in surprise at her reaction. “And it will not be. Now, throw it away.” 

Silence. There was silence all around. 

Nervously Hermione bit her lip. Then – slowly, but determinately – she shook her head.

“No, Professor. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that.”  

“Well then. But you can certainly serve a detention on Wednesday evening, Miss Granger, can you?” he asked with a clear note of sarcasm. “As you see – you just kind of volunteered for that.”  

“Now?” Snape suggested, mockingly.  

Feeling cornered, Hermione was about to shake her head once again, when Draco mixed into their dispute. 

“Excuse me Professor –” he called with that trademark note of casualness in his voice that seemed to suggest the matter was of no real importance to him. “Excuse me, Sir, but that’s not Miss Granger’s possession. It’s mine, you see.” 

It was the gaze of interest and silent triumph that crossed Snape’s features that caused Hermione to suddenly realise.  

He was doing this on purpose! For some strange reason Snape had decided to provoke a reaction from Draco and he certainly did not get disappointed. She could not really tell what he hoped to gain or prove by this, but… Nervously Hermione glanced back and forth between the two Slytherins.  

For the split of a second Snape’s dark eyes were glittering with silent triumph – showing amusement rather than malice, seeing his assumptions verified.  

Nonetheless his reaction was just as unfair as everyone probably expected.  

“It is not appropriate to bring any kind of food along to the Potions classroom, Mr. Malfoy. Please bear that in mind, will you?” There was no word about detention and he did not take any points off Slytherin, either. 

When he focussed back on Hermione again she immediately knew he was not quite done with his exploration. 

“No need to put up a smug face like that, Miss Granger. There is nothing to change about what I said earlier. It is ten points off Gryffindor and a detention for you – due to the fact of your entirely inappropriate stubbornness and for putting up a pointless argument. That’s final!”

Once again Hermione felt Draco stir in the seat beside her and once again she stopped him before he would speak up on her behalf. Just as she had expected Snape was watching their interaction very closely an unreadable expression in his eyes.  

For the rest of the lesson they worked along in silence, only speaking to each other when the task at hand required it. Nonetheless the tension between them was still there. Not uncomfortable but intense – almost palpable.  

More than once Hermione felt Snape’s gaze resting on them, searchingly.  

As they – _finally_  – stepped out into the corridor after the lesson Draco turned towards her with a disbelieving shake of his head. 

“Well,” he drawled in that special tone she used to loathe but had grown so fond of recently. His malfoy-blue eyes lit with amusement as he passed the little bag of sweets back to her.  

“It’s utterly pleasant to see you’re regaining your stubbornness – but did you have pick  _Snape_ of all people? Hermione, honestly?” He sighed theatrically rolling his eyes.   

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles at that, breaking through the tension and awkwardness between them. 

“By all means,” she declared as seriously as she could manage under the current circumstances. Still smiling she opened the little bag to offer him some of the candy.

“Lemon Drop?” 

OO 

Tuesday morning found Malfoy Manor drowning beneath thick layers of rain and sleety weather. The old trees’ branches around the house were shaking and shifting in the heavy wind, leaving the wide lawn littered with dry leaves and quite a few broken twigs and branches.  

Inside the morning room, at the east side of the house, the magnificent fireplace already harboured a huge, merrily flickering fire that started to dispose the damp chill of the harvest morning. 

Lucius Malfoy was pacing the polished hardwood floor with carefully measured strides. Just the clenching and flexing of his hands betrayed the tenseness he was currently struggling with.   

Across the room, close to the fire, in a high-backed cherry-wood armchair that was comfortably upholstered with creamy velvet and golden brocade, his wife Narcissa was seated. 

One of her white blonde locks had sprung from the clip that was holding them at the back of her head, bobbing back and forth whenever she leaned over to pick another strand of silk from the tablet. Right now it was dangling right in front of her nose, he noticed, as she blew it from her face with a quite unladylike puff. He had to smile at that, despite his current state of unease.  

His mood already easing out, Lucius’ lips were twitching with amusement. Biting back a grin, he had to suppress the urge to brush the stray curl back as he kept watching his beautiful wife.  

She was working on a large piece of cloth. A new quilt cover for Draco’s room, which was compounded of uncountable tiny threads of silk that were slowly, but steadily building a detailed scene of a nocturnal magical forest that seemed to be shimmering in moonlight. 

Several outlines of tiny flowers, sprinkling the ground, ferns and fungi growing between the mighty trunks and some magical beasts were only indicated in schemes of silvery-grey and ivory flaring up within the treetops or somewhere in the background, so one could only catch short glimpses of their outlines as they seemed to be moving in the background between the trees, completed the picture. An owl, a fox, a unicorn… 

He was not convinced about the unicorn. In fact he assumed it to be a little more suitable for a girl rather than a young man. It was not entirely inappropriate though, powerful magical creature that it was and it was decently placed in the background, at least. It was gracefully galloping along between the trees – casting a trail of lightness behind by its tail – that appeared like a silver-lining sprinkled with glimpses of scarlet and gold of a slowly but doubtlessly approaching dawn.

He tried to ignore the impression of Gryffindor colours invading the peaceful scenery. If Narcissa assumed it to be adequate, it probably was. 

He could not help but wondering once again whether a dragon would not have been more suitable instead. 

His wife had only laughed at his suggestion though, telling him the image of an animated dragon might have probably endangered the scenery to become deforested and would have caused the sleeper a bunch of nightmares.    

The effect was achieved through several spells, Narcissa had explained that – once woven into the material with each single thread – the sleeper was granted untroubled, peaceful sleep, pleasant dreams and comfort beyond mere physical warmth.  

Earth colours they were, mostly green – which Lucius had once tried to divide but had given up upon counting them - as well as some dark brown and black accompanied by glimpses of silvery grey. Slytherin colours – Malfoy colours. He had watched her precise, meticulous stitches. It was a beautiful work. But then, everything Narcissa composed was beautiful. And even if he still did wonder whether the quilt cover would not have been more suitable for a girl, he would never mention it. 

Maybe if they had been luckier about poor little Dolphin… Maybe if they had not lost her… But no… 

No, he would definitely not say anything that was just bound to upset her. If Narcissa wanted Draco to have this quilt cover – he would not spoil the pleasant anticipation she took from her work – it was tastefully done after all and then again, one single unicorn illuminating the shadowy forest’s background with annoyingly Gryffindor scarlet and gold would not cause the boy any harm, would it?    

Apparently sensing his dark brooding, Narcissa looked up. “What’s wrong, Lucius?” she asked lowering her piece of embroidery to rest in her lap.  

Nothing, my Dear,” he sighed, not wanting to worry her, but she merely narrowed her eyes on him, contemplating his tense composure thoughtfully. 

“Yes, there is,” she finally stated, “stop to ‘nonsense me’, Lucius.” 

With an exasperated sigh he threw his hands up. “Well, yes… It’s about Draco,” he declared … “

“Draco?” she asked suddenly concerned, putting her piece of needlework aside completely now. “What about him?”

“He, he is acting weird,” Lucius sighed, “he… I have heard some things…received a letter about… well…” 

“What kind of things? Did he get himself into some kind of trouble?” 

“Not yet – not entirely so at least.. Although he might…” 

“What are you talking about? Tell me Lucius!” she demanded, worriedly.  

“For some unknown reason Draco appears to have decided on spending time with the Mudblood.” 

“With whom?” 

“Potter’s annoying sidekick. Hermione Granger.”  

“Oh her. Well….she is a pretty girl,” she stated with a frown.  

“Mmm- I dread that’s not all this is about…. For all I have been told, he continues to entangle himself into several arguments with Potter about the girl, recently.” 

“Maybe that’s the purpose of the whole matter?” his wife suggested, thoughtfully.   

“Possibly, yes. I’ve thought as much, too. It does actually make sense, you see? 

Kissing her at potions class, defending her…”  

“Kissing?” 

“Umm, yes. Under the influence of a potion, but still…” 

Narcissa’s head snapped up in alarm at that. “Potion?” She glared. “What kind of potions does Severus hand out at his class? Illegal Love concoctions?!” 

“No, just Shape-shifting Potion.” 

“Oh… and Draco did kiss her under that influence? In front of the entire class?” 

“Apparently so, yes.” 

“Wha-what shape did he take?” 

“The shape of an older version of himself.”  

“But…that’s… Oh Lucius that’s really troubling!” 

“I thought so too my Dear. Until I heard about Friday’s Flying class that is…” 

“What did you hear, Lucius?” she asked clearly concerned now, leaving her seat to walk over towards him, placing an comforting hand at his forearm which mysteriously tended to sooth him.   

“He is said to have been flying on his broom with her casting Trust and Care in front of the entire class….” 

“He did… WHAT?!” Narcissa called with unfamiliar boldness. 

“I beg you pardon, Lucius, but did I get that right?! Did he… He did not really cast –  _that_  –spell, did he?” 

“Apparently so,” he declared, only to fly into a rage the very next second. “But how can this be? Cissa, do tell me! How? With her of all people!? He never got along with her?!” 

 “Mm,” Narcissa mused, thoughtfully. “Mmmm. That’s certainly kind of…. Um…um  _disturbing_ … He couldn’t have faked that, could he?!” 

“No way! I don’t think that can be explained just as easily… you know what that particular spell requires, don’t you, Love?” 

“Was that your question or its answer already?” Narcissa mocked half-heartedly. 

“But then…" she breathed, "Lucius, I know it is probably the last thing you’re willing to acknowledge, but that –  _can’t_  – be fake! It simply can’t! He –  _must_  – have some serious interest in the girl. Oh Lucius, just imagine he is bound to be valuing her safety and wellbeing beyond anything… and…  _You Know Who_ …” she trailed off, stifling a sob.  

“Yes, my Dear,” the addressed sighed, “I know.” 

One thing kind of led to another. Worry and comfort were mixing with love and desire causing the grey harvest morning behind the windowpanes to fade into nothingness. 

**OO**  

About an hour later they were still lying amid the thick velvety cushions holding each other. Once again the both of them started contemplating all of this news that had brought this rather interesting change of routine upon them.  

“So, what are we to do about Draco now?” Narcissa asked, her face darkening with worry once again.  

“For once I only sent him a letter pointing out his inadequate behaviour towards her in general, but… I’m not sure whether that’ll be enough… Oh Cissa…What do you think I should do?”  

“Ask him,” she finally suggested. “Travel to Hogwarts and ask him yourself, Lucius. I could even come with you, if you like!” she added as an excited afterthought. Sitting up to look at him, the blanket slid from her shoulder, exposing the creamy white skin to the fire shine.   

“Mmm, yes, maybe we should,” he wondered. “On the other hand we shouldn’t put too much importance into the whole matter as long as we don’t know anything specific. Don’t you think so?” 

“Mmm,” she mused. “We probably shouldn’t,” she agreed. 

“I know you are eager to see him, Dear… So am I. But the next Quidditch Game is barely three weeks from now. We’ll be there to see him then, anyway. We can watch him and – the Granger girl –  and build our own opinion about the matter, without causing too much of a fuss.” 

“Listen, Lucius, whatever we do, I don’t think it’s wise to pressure Draco too much about it – you know how much his temper resembles yours… it’ll only cause him to get more stubborn and determined.” 

“Oh,” she smiled, “Oh Lucius, I’m looking very much forward to see him!”  

“Yes, me too.” he agreed, smiling as she leaned back into the cushions to kiss him.   

**OO**  

Today’s rain only softly pattered against the window glass and made the soft light of the fire shine appear even more cosy. 

It was already afternoon with dusk fast approaching.  

Draco Malfoy was currently seated on the floor of his study room staring into the flickering fire as if he was to expect answers there. It was a mere week since he had found out about Hermione’s condition. A mere week! But, he was in so deep already. 

He knew she was pregnant with Potters child and yet, he had rarely been able to think about anything but her.  

He could not even tell for sure when this intense fondness had captured him. Maybe it had been there all along. Beneath that brainwashed, spoiled brat blinded by prejudice that he had been for the longest time. He could not tell. He really could not. This was all so very confusing and yet – there was one thing he was as sure about as he could possibly be.  

He did like Hermione Granger. A lot. 

It felt like ages ago since he had felt any animosity or superiority towards her.    

He was thinking about how good flying with her had felt. He was thinking about casting the Trust and Care. How protective he had felt of her. Still did…. He was thinking about that other magic she supposed to be working between them – And about what he supposed that  _‘magic’_  to be – and all the time he was longing for her. Longing to talk to her. Longing to listen to her. Longing to just see her. To just be around her.  

All the while he was still awkward because of his dreams and fantasies… Fantasies in which he told her the most impossible of things – kissed her senseless and ended up shagging her brains out. That was quite enough to feel awkward around her, wasn’t it?  

Well, it was better than it had been in the morning. The little incident with Snape and the little bag of sweets had relieved some of the tension, indeed. Though not all of it. After all she shouldn’t… couldn’t… mustn’t know… how much…he…really… It would not do her any good. 

He mustn’t approach her while in a mood like this. Too easily could he loose the grip upon himself and do something stupid like –  _kiss her_  – again. Not that he deemed kissing her stupid. In fact he imagined it to be rather umm…. enthralling and…breathtaking… and… No! He was doing it again! He really could not think of her without getting lost in a tangled mess of emotion and desire, could he?  

It was just so hard, so utterly difficult to keep away from her. Almost painful…. 

So he continued struggling with the strong impulse to just head for her quarters and tell her he missed her and just needed to see her – talk to her and… No! No, no no… 

He was still struggling with ideas as impossible as that when suddenly there was a noise from the corridor.  

Given the excuse he had been looking for he leaped to his feed to at least check on her door. If he could not come up with the courage to approach her he would just make sure she got no visitor to upset her. 

He did not think Potter might actually dare to just step into her rooms without permission, but – Well, just in case…. He did know the password after all.  
  


It was not Potter.   
  


It was the Weaselette.   
  


The faithless little bint was once again planning on pestering her - but spun around at the sound of his steps approaching. Her face froze with fear at the sight of him. 

With a glorious feeling of triumph Draco stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at her. "Oh. It's - _you_ \- again," he sneered.  

 

**AN:** Thanks for all the nice feedback.

Also a big thank you to **SebastiansGleek** for beta-reading!


	20. Careful considerations about confessions of care

There had been a noise from the corridor. She was convinced of it. Despite her unwill-ingness to face anyone’s company right now that her mind was so preoccupied with her private issues, Hermione closed the book in her lap and placed it onto the table in front of her, determined to face whatever Head Girl duties might be considered. 

With grim determination not to neglect her duties anymore than she already had, Hermione got up from the couch a little more quickly than might have been wise to do – and was immediately held up by the slight, already familiar feeling of dizziness that eas-ily captured her whenever she rose too quickly these days. ‘Private issues, indeed’ she thought bitterly as she waited for the sensation to pass. 

Smoothing down her hair and robes Hermione’s hand lingered upon the yet unchanged shape of her waistline. Her Head Girl duties had not been the only responsibility she was neglecting so badly these days. It was high time to actually face the truth and act upon it. She just had to. 

Desperate to escape the irrational but already too familiar wave of panic that used to capture her at exactly this point of consideration, Hermione focussed on the task at hand instead.  
Her eyes set upon the door she was preparing for the knock to follow. Eager for any sort of distraction that might save her from her musings right now, she almost willed it to come – the trouble was just – it did not! 

There were voices instead she noticed. Voices she knew well enough, entangling into what might be an argument or grim discussion – right in front of her door. 

It was him, she realised with a flash of excitement. Him. And Ginny? 

Without further hesitation Hermione opened the door to check upon whatever was going on out there. Knocking be damned. 

OO

After the brightness inside her room her eyes needed to adjust to the dim atmosphere of the corridor before she managed to sort out any detail. 

One thing she could tell from the start, though: The tension around here was intense, almost palpable! A turmoil of conflicting emotion.

Within a couple of seconds Hermione took in all this without being noticed herself. 

The wizard, whose platinum blond hair stood out against the shadows around, was any-thing but the sweet and compassionate boy she had come to know of late, though. This was Draco Malfoy the Slytherin prince at his best; bold, conceited and as arrogant as he had always been. 

But while all of his vile comments, insults and threads had been parroted and therefore somewhat lacking their substance before, this was a different person to cross.  
He was entirely calm and yet intimidating, a grim determination radiating from him that was almost palpable. 

He was just plain frightening to be precise - a conclusion to which her redheaded friend seemed to have come as well.  
“M-Malfoy?” she gasped, entirely thunderstruck. 

“That’s my name, yes,” he drawled, stepping closer, valuing the evidence of her fear. 

It might be wrong, narrow minded and childish, but Hermione felt an almost bizarre sat-isfaction at the other girl’s discomfort. Unlike her as it might be – she just valued the sight of it. 

Ginny had backed off, her huge brown eyes glancing up and down the corridor only to find it empty, abandoned… 

Her already pale face drained of all its colour, causing her freckles to stand out all the more as she backed off until she felt the opposite wall stopping her. 

“W-what… are you doing here?” she gasped licking her lips in a gesture of utter nerv-ousness. 

For a couple of seconds the blond Slytherin seemed to merely value the sight of her discomfort, not unlike a cat, savouring a mouse’s frantic attempts to get away no matter how pointless they might possibly be. 

“Funny you of all people might say that, Weaselette,” he stated. “See, I was just about to ask you the same,” he declared in mock surprise, before his eyes narrowed into small slits, his entire posture threatening her. 

“Listen, red,” he then drawled, apparently nerveless, yet with such an amount of em-phasize it caught the very breath within Hermione’s throat.  
“If you won’t stop pestering her, you will be sorry!” he added without the erstwhile mock cheerfulness in his voice, gesturing into the direction of her quarters. 

“Her?” Ginny’s gaze followed the movement and froze as she caught sight of her just that instant.

“Her- Hermione?” she stammered…

“Exactly,” he declared entirely missing the fact she had not been addressing him at her last statement. 

“Wha…what’s it to you, Malfoy?” Ginny gasped, completely thunderstruck. 

“Bet you and Mr. Bighead would like to know, wouldn’t you, Weaselette?!” he drawled mockingly. “Guess what?” he sneered. “don’t bother. You wouldn’t like it anyway!”

“Ww-hat?!” Ginny gasped clearly horrified now. “Wouldn’t like?” she echoed. “Why, Ma…Malfoy? Why wouldn’t we like it? You’re not planning to hurt her? Are you?!”

Hermnione noticed Draco flinching at the very question. 

“Hurt?! Wha… I?” he choked out, entirely scandalised, before – finally – regaining his composure. 

“There’s hardly any need for that,” he sneered, bitterly. “The two dunderheads of yours are perfectly capable of doing that yourself. More profoundly than I ever could, believe me….”

“W-what…?” Ginny stammered utterly confused at this turn of their conversation. I don’t understand, Malfoy. What’s it to you?! What do you want with her then?”

“Want?” he drawled, casually. “Oh- lots of things; none of which is your concern! Luck-ily, as I might add.” 

“Lots? Of things?” Ginny stammered still troubled. 

“Anyone dropped an echo around here?” he scoffed instead of an answer, rolling his eyes in mock desperation. 

“Yes, Weaslette. Lot’s of things! And if you won’t clear off now you might be sorry.”

“Sorry?” he immediately mimicked in a high pitched singsong of a voice. “Yes, ohh so sorry! Once and for all; I’m not going to hurt your ever so precious friend whom you have cheated upon so soundly and gracelessly. And now clear off! Don’t pretend you’d care…” 

“I would. I…I do!” Ginny stammered stepping forward in a flash of bravery and for a moment Hermione almost felt guilty, but just barely. Her musings were cut short by the Slytherin’s next words, whatsoever. 

“To tell the truth, Weasley, I appreciate your courage and determination. It’s impressive, considering what you’ve gone through and how frightened you must be, honestly. But you trying to ease your consciousness won’t do her any good at the moment and her wellbeing and peace of mind are important to me! Think of me whatever you please – hate, despise or fear me all you like, but rest assured that I won’t allow any harm or pain to befall Hermione if I can possibly help it. Not ever!” 

The utter strangeness and seriousness of his confession left not only Hermione but also Ginny utterly speechless. 

“If Hermione wants to speak to your traitorous little piece of ass she’s more than capa-ble of arranging that herself, I’m convinced of it. And if so, I won’t threaten or harass you anymore. I might even end up to make proper conversation and act remotely civil towards you – for her sake…”

He sighed, apparently enervated. 

“For now, I’m not under the impression she’s entirely thrilled at the prospect, I’m afraid. So do yourself a favour and stop pestering her about it, Ginny Weasley. Be so smart.”

“Why?”

“Because….” he drawled apparently carelessly. “I won’t stand by and watch you – nor anyone else hurting her any more than you already did.”

“What?!” she gasped, still utterly confused. 

“How shall I put this?” he sighed in mock consideration. “Well, lets say, I’m capable of arranging it that you’ll regret not to have stayed in the ever so cosy chamber of secrets where you had cuddly, kind Tommy Riddle for comfort,” he drawled sarcastically. 

With a startled gasp Ginny backed further off, staring at him in utter shock and disbe-lieve, before she retreated from the corridor. 

OO

Hermione supposed Draco had sensed her presence rather than heard her as he turned to look at her in spite of the fact that she had not moved at all. 

She could not name what she read within his gaze, she simply could not, but this was not the beastly, cocksure ‘Malfoy’ she had contemplated only seconds before – this was simply and thoroughly ‘Draco’ and the impulse to just rush over to just burry her head into the crook of his shoulder became almost irresistible the longer she looked at him. It felt so good to see him! She was so utterly, definitely thrilled! Captivated…

Desperately fighting a laugh at the strangeness of the situation Hermione bit her lip. 

“You’re SO mean!” she addressed him instead of a greeting shaking her head in mild disapproval just as the firefly red curls of Ginny Weasley disappeared around the cor-ner. 

“…and proud of it!” he declared with a smug grin, nodding, nonchalantly.  
Hermione merely rolled her eyes at that, breaking into a broad grin despite her better intention. ‘The nerve of him!’  
If he was surprised at seeing her around here he certainly did not show.

“What brings you here, Draco?” she asked with as much calm she could muster.

OO

This was the question he had dreaded.  
‘I long to see you so badly it actually hurts, so I took the first opportunity as an excuse,’ would not pass.  
He could hardly go for: ‘I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try to be sensi-ble’, either, he supposed.  
Nonetheless an answer needed to be given. So, feeling cornered as he did his Slytherin instincts took over before he could think the better of it. 

“See I have been thinking about what you had said. The other day… when we were talking about spending a day without using any magic… I think that’s kind of fascinat-ing… and I… I’d like to try. But - Hermione, I could use a little advice there…” he mut-tered, glad to have come up with an idea like that. But even when speaking he realised this was not so far from the truth than he might have imagined. 

“What do you mean?” she asked with an air of confusion, stepping aside to invite him into the room. This was not what she had expected at all, he would bet.

With a smug grin back in place Draco stepped over the threshold – shielding himself with all the Malfoy appearance he could muster at the time being. He could just hope it was enough to keep her from realising how much of a mess he actually was. 

In silent agreement they headed for one of the couches – the one he had placed her onto when he had carried her up here from the boy’s bathroom the other day, he noted. 

`Was it really no more than a mere week ago?’ he mused. 

It felt like a lifetime. But then, it had been an eventful week indeed that had turned his entire world upside down.  
All of this might be only possible because of the slow burning tension between them that had been there all along, he assumed. 

“How about telling me some more about your precious muggle-life? Would you mind?” he suggested with a half-smile and a playful note in his voice, hopefully strong enough to successfully cover up his excitement and self-consciousness. 

Her whole face lit up at this. “Not at all! That’s a brilliant idea!”  
His excitement did not decrease at a sight like that; a heartfelt smile brightening her fea-tures - directed at him… Not one bit.  
She looked so happy all of a sudden – so beautiful. So… incredible…unbelievable, ut-terly perfect! ‘Oh Gods, how was he supposed to ever succeed to keep his whirlwind of emotion at bay, if she looked at him like that!?’

“I’d gladly do that, Draco, honestly. But….” she trailed off, hesitating, considering their options probably. 

“Well, it will be almost impossible here at school. Just remember those staircases!” she rolled her eyes at him in mock desperation. “Not to mention classes…”

He did not pick up on her light tone this time.  
With all the earnest he felt he said: “Then lets try on a weekend, Hermione,” he sug-gested, his grey eyes burning into hers. But once again she merely shook her head. 

“I don’t think that’s going to work either, Draco. I’m sorry,” she murmured defensively. 

With a flash of bravery he reached for her hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “Why not?!” he insisted with passion. “We could make it work, Hermione! We…could! I…I know we can!” 

She looked at him. Brown eyes wide and stunned. 

“Please,” he whispered, pressing her hand ever so softly. 

OO

Her voice was raw, almost hoarse at her response. “And then? Going where, Draco? Hogsmeade? That’s hardly an option either, I dread,” she murmured, contemplating the sight of their entwined hands as she spoke.

“Then take me to the Muggle world,” he suggested kind of excitedly, pressing her hand for emphasise once more.  
“Take me wherever you wish, to - to show me what you do or where you go to when you’re not here at Hogwarts! I’d like to know more about that!”  
“About you,” he added his voice barely more than a whisper but no less sincere. 

“That would be my parents house – the Weasleys- or ummm the Order… ummm I’m not quite sure which would be less complicated.”

“Because it’s me?” he asked wistfully

“Well… yes… They… I’m sorry, Draco. But…They don’t know what else you can be like. They wouldn’t understand…neither of them…”

“For the Weasleys I can very well see that…” he admitted with a small grin. “But your parents? They wouldn’t know me at all, would they?”

“I’m not suggesting that we should go there, just wondering,” he added at her eyes wid-ening. 

“Well actually yes- they would…” Hermione admitted rather embarrassed all of a sud-den. “In fact, they… They do.”

Just as she had expected, Draco looked at her with utter curiosity now.  
“You told them about me?” he asked with a mixture of surprise, delight and confusion. 

“Oh umm, yes, umm o-occasionally …” she mumbled, intensely aware of the fact that they were still holding hands – fingers interlaced with one another. 

“Occasionally?” Draco requested with an unmistakeable air of excitement. “Why, Hermione? Why did you tell them about me?”

“Well, while I have told them very little about the whole political dilemma they do have an idea of the things going on. I mean they know there are different tendencies in the wizzarding world and…”

“Different tendencies…hmm? I’m not sure whether either Potter or the Dark Lord would agree with the exact choice of words. ‘Different tendencies’ that’s very diplomatic, Hermione. Honestly…” he couldn’t help but grin. “Ever considered a career at the minis-try? You’d certainly rock!” 

She could not help but smile at this. 

“But I still can’t see why they would know anything about me?” he insisted. 

“Because I emm, well, well because once I…” she stammered, before she got a grip on herself, finally. “I pointed you out to them at Flourish and Blots once. Besides that I oc-casionally complained about you when you had annoyed or harassed me…. So they do know who you are, Draco, I’m afraid,” she completed in a rush, blushing furiously.

“Ohh-” he sighed. “I’m sorry! Believe me, Hermione, I really am.”

“I know,” she whispered back, pressing his hand reassuringly, which granted her a heartfelt, but slightly sad little smile. 

Hastily she spoke on to escape the intensity of the moment: “And the Order… well… well…” she trailed off. 

“I see….” he mumbled. “That would hardly be an option, either, wouldn’t it? Besides that neither this, nor the Weasleys’ might suit our purpose of the absence of magic, right?”

“No,” she smiled back at him, entirely content now. 

They were both musing over their options all there while their hands were playing with one another, resting atop his knee. 

“And how about an evening?” he suggested almost tentatively, brushing his fingertips along the side of her little finger and across the sensitive skin of her palm in a feathery light caress, only to gently, but firmly press her hand the very next second, rubbing his thumb across the back of it.

“Would you mind spending time with me, Hermione,” he asked rather shyly, “paying a visit to – say Muggle London?”

Hermione’s heart started racing inside her chest. This was so meaningful and exciting! Almost like a date – a secret date – but neither of them did speak the words aloud.  
‘Muggle London’, she mused, ‘that could be possible…’ 

“But it’s not just around the corner, remember,” she contradicted, carefully. “How would we get there?”

“Well…. In that case a little help of magic on our ‘magic free evening’ might be appro-priate,” he smiled kind of mischievously and once again the sight of it simply caught the very breath within her throat. “I’ll think of something,” he promised, pressing her hand once more. 

Hermione was so captivated, she had to clear her throat before she managed to speak again. “So will I,” she agreed. “Tell me if you have an idea, Draco, will you?”

“Yes” he whispered, looking at her with so much fondness, she had to close her eyes to handle the intensity of her emotion. Her heart was hammering inside of her chest so intensely she could actually ‘feel’ it. 

“I will,” he confessed even more fondly. 

“Hermione, I promise…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, here we are once more. Thanks to everyone who is following this story! I know it has been a terrible delay once again. I have been mulling this story over and over within my mind on frequent occasions in the meantime and I definitely know where I want it to go and end upon. I’ve already written the Epilogue and I’m eager to share, since I’m fond of it, indeed. I just don’t want to spoil what could be done by rushing through the plot just to get there.  
> Thank you so much for the patience and truthfulness to keep up - with this story – and others that still need to be finished... 
> 
>  
> 
> Lots of thanks to SebastiansGleek for beta-reading! 
> 
> Smiles joyfully, Serpent-Tina


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